My babies...

Man oh man. My babies are so different. A perfect type of different. But definitely different. 

And I love that. I love that Cash is the sweetest little boy in this whole world. He tells me I'm beautiful every single day. He kisses me and holds my hand in public. He tells me he wants to marry me and give me a shiny ring. He is just the sweetest.

And then he gets tired. 

And then the little devil child comes out. The child that has an attitude. The child that will talk back and stick his tongue out at me. The child that will walk up and hit his sister for absolutely no reason. 

And then there is my Presley girl. She is the biggest light in the room. She smiles and laughs and sings and dances. She hugs and kisses and plays peek-a-boo and watches Frozen.

And then she gets tired. Or hungry.

And then the sassy little diva comes out. The child that will flop down in the floor and do the reverse worm. The child that will scream and yell because she isn't getting her way. The child that will look at you and say, "HEY!" when you spank her bottom. 

But they are my children. And they are perfect. They are my kind of perfect. The have their problems and traits that cause problems and headaches, but they are perfect problems.