Carson Days

I think Carson would do well as a Hobbit. He's obviously the right size. And he has this uncanny ability to eat several extra meals during the day.

Here he is enjoying second breakfast after his first full bowl of oatmeal smothered in brown sugar and cinnamon. We call him our 'garburator' which, if you haven't had a chance to catch up on your study of Canadian lingo, is a garbage disposal. The only thing we've found that he genuinely doesn't like is a potato. Turns them down when they're mashed, roasted, or baked. French fry form seems to slide down super quick, though.

Makes sense to me why he eats so much. The kid never stops moving. Running, jumping, rocking, bouncing, always, always, always.
I laughed when I uploaded this photo from our Disney World trip last October (which I'm so sad I never got around to blogging about because it was seriously one of the greatest vacations ever. If you're planning a Disney World trip, go in the beginning of October and definitely hit the Halloween Party... no lines, free candy, costumes... need I say more?). I was sifting through the pictures fast, deleting all that didn't catch my eye, and this one almost ended up in the garbage before I noticed how perfectly it captured Carson. Another day he was rocking so much while we were watching the previews before Tarzan that I brought the little trampoline up and put it in front of the TV for him. He jumped the entire 88 minutes.

He does slow down sometimes, though. We watched this little cutie for a few days and he sat still long enough to feed her half the bottle before he decided he'd rather be running outside.
He's got a sweet heart of gold, this one.

And take a look at him polishing up his domestic skills.
He burned himself just seconds after this photo was snapped (his mother, distracted behind the lens of her camera, had nothing to do with that). All he said as he shook his hand down by his side was, "Whoa. That really is hot." He declined a bag of ice or a cold rag and decided that he was done ironing for the day. A few minutes after he had gone to play with something else he came back into the room where I was finishing the ironing and said, "Actually, maybe I do want an ice cube." Poor bud. He was brave, though. If it were me, I would have cried.