This post again, is about the little Rockstar living in our house. We call him by many names: Dean, David, Deanpolario, Deanyorito, Baboi, Baby, and he answers to all these names. It looks like his mother likes to write about him a lot lately, because she feels guilty of writing a lot about his older brother Migue. Oh, I'm talking about me.
While writing this post, I can't help but look around our bedroom and see what a great mess this boy has done. It gets me crazy sometimes when I step on one of his toy soldiers or step on his pee. We are toilet training him but he thinks he's a doggie who likes marking his territory. That's our Dean alright. Quite a handful but we don't care, we love him so much.
We love him despite him breaking everybody's coffee mug in the house, and his papi and I ended up buying mugs for everyone.
We love him despite making a great mess all the time.
We love him despite him telling us to go away when we want to be beside him.
We love him despite his obsession of breaking things around him, especially glasses and porcelains.
We love him despite him purposely hitting our nose with his head for no reason (then laughs about it afterwards).
We love him despite the noise he makes all the time.
Despite being a menace, this Rockstar likes to be hugged and tucked in bed every night. He calls you beautiful when he sees your picture lying around or posted online, and he randomly hugs you tight for no reason.
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