<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200092094049681200</id><updated>2011-08-02T13:34:26.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing 4 little hearts</title><subtitle type='html'>Growing 4 little hearts</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickson6.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7200092094049681200/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickson6.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Hannah, Owen, Noah, and Maddie Grace's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14375455313784244333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7200092094049681200.post-150125528580914636</id><published>2009-08-05T20:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T20:51:28.667-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet Trouble</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS4SehqwI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k6HjrRJcemQ/s1600-h/GetAttachment9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366693032951393026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS4SehqwI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k6HjrRJcemQ/s320/GetAttachment9.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS4IzZvHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/3s4D0CARn8w/s1600-h/GetAttachment8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366693030354599026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS4IzZvHI/AAAAAAAAAAk/3s4D0CARn8w/s320/GetAttachment8.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS3rCxbxI/AAAAAAAAAAc/jHrzcbSQhxo/s1600-h/GetAttachment.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366693022366002962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS3rCxbxI/AAAAAAAAAAc/jHrzcbSQhxo/s320/GetAttachment.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpStfkmB9I/AAAAAAAAAAU/W-LhaWLT9tQ/s1600-h/GetAttachment3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366692847487944658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpStfkmB9I/AAAAAAAAAAU/W-LhaWLT9tQ/s320/GetAttachment3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;So, I love my 3 year old. Noah is my 3rd child and a handful. I lovingly refer to him as sweet trouble. Most of my stories come from him and I have often thought of the book I will write one day titled &lt;/span&gt;NOAH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT? And each chapter will describe the crime and have a picture of the little sneak either in the act or the aftermath. (Yes, I take pictures. I try not to let him see me, but I have to capture each moment so I can laugh after I clean up the mess, apologize to someone, or get done crying)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We just found out he has some sort of sensory issues-mostly to do with textures. It makes me sad to think about it, but I also know that I have a full-of-life child who makes me laugh every minute. I think about moms who have a child with major issues and struggle each day just to make it through, and I realize that my hard days are minor. He goes to sensory integration therapy every week and I watch him through the window and just think about how much I love him and thank God for giving Oakley and me such a precious little boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is some of his mischief:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Oakley having to put almost all of his laptop keys back on&lt;br /&gt;2. He poured the whole salt shaker of salt all over the table&lt;br /&gt;3. I found him sitting in the kitchen sink squirting himself with the water squirter&lt;br /&gt;4. I got this text from someone watching him at Mother's Morning Out: Noah has told me at least three times that he needs to go to the bathroom. Each time I take him he tells me he doesn't need to go and then proceeds to lock himself in the stall and laugh hysterically.&lt;br /&gt;5. He was saying hi to someone at church and yelled, "HI! MISS POOT!"&lt;br /&gt;6. He colored on the carpet with markers&lt;br /&gt;7. He wrote on the walls and told me he didn't until I said, "did you draw this pretty picture on the wall?"&lt;br /&gt;8. I caught him sucking hot dog chunks up a straw&lt;br /&gt;9. He squirted toothpaste all over the sink and in his hair&lt;br /&gt;10. I found him in the dryer&lt;br /&gt;11. He gets in the car and when I go to buckle him in he locks the door as fast as he can so I can't get in&lt;br /&gt;12. He hits the panic button on my keyring at least 3 times a week&lt;br /&gt;13. He takes off his clothes in public places- A kid complained one week at church because he managed to get all of his clothes off and was standing in the middle of kids watching a movie with just underwear on&lt;br /&gt;14. He pees anywhere- I caught him in the front of church...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Need I go on? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7200092094049681200-150125528580914636?l=dickson6.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dickson6.blogspot.com/feeds/150125528580914636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://dickson6.blogspot.com/2009/08/sweet-trouble.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7200092094049681200/posts/default/150125528580914636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7200092094049681200/posts/default/150125528580914636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dickson6.blogspot.com/2009/08/sweet-trouble.html' title='Sweet Trouble'/><author><name>Hannah, Owen, Noah, and Maddie Grace's Mom</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14375455313784244333</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zqOjn0d1R4A/SnpS4SehqwI/AAAAAAAAAAs/k6HjrRJcemQ/s72-c/GetAttachment9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
