There’s something I tell people about my littlest guy Milan: that if he was my first kid, I’d only have one kid. And really, there’s some truth to that. While Mia and Max are gentle little people, Milan tends to whallop his brother. Mia and Max were reared to eat nicely in restaurants. We once had to leave a restaurant because Milan threw his drink on the window and as we watched it slowly drip down, I beat a hasty retreat with the child while Darian ran for the check. Mia covers her ears when things are too loud. Milan yells, amazingly loud. If you give Max a magazine, Milan will grab it and shred it up. Yep, he’s that kid. I once called the pediatrician after I watched Milan drag his brother across the floor. By his hair. The doctor said he’d grow out of it. Apparently he’s still growing.
But there is one undeniable thing about that kid: he is divinely, amazingly, deliciously cute. It’s his saving grace. His teachers adore him. He charms the wits out of the school interns and even manages to win over his siblings with the most heartfelt sorry after a good shove.
So yesterday, after he whacked a small plastic pink car into my foot and I yelled at him, I just melted when he said, in his most gruff voice, “Mommy, I am not playing with you anymore. But I do LUB your earrings!“