Family Man

Recently Micah has taken to listing off the names of people in our family. I call it "Role Call."
He does it about 30 times a day. First, he touches my arm and says, "Mama," then he touches or points to his brother, "Grey."
If Travis is home, he'll point to him and say "Daddy," otherwise, he'll point out the window or at the door and say "Daddy."
He'll do it several times in a row. "Mama, Grey, Daddy. Mama, Grey, Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Grey, Mama, Daddy."
He says Daddy way more than anyone else.
Sometimes, Micah will pick up my phone, a photograph, or a book of family pictures and keep going. "Brumpa, Katie, Mama, Tate, Jack, Anma, May-ee, Daddy, Baby."
All pictures of himself are either "Baby" or "Grey."
"Brumpa" and "Anma" are Grandpa and Grandma.

When Travis is gone, Micah walks around the house touching all Travis' things. His coat. "Daddy coat."
His shoes. "Daddy soosh."
His hat. "Daddy hat."

Today he found "Daddy Hat" and put it on.
"Will you sit on the couch and let me take your picture?" I asked.
"Yes. Cheeeese!" He sat on the couch and pulled a book of our wedding photos off the end table. "Daddy Book. Brumpa! Tate! Daddy!"
He doesn't recognize me in most of the pictures, since I had long hair. But occasionally he'll point me out.



I really should have taken a video instead of just pictures, but I love these photos. This is a little boy that loves his family.
He brings me the phone about 10 times a day, and asks "Brumpa? Katie?" because he wants to FaceTime with my family.
Every time we get in the car, he asks "Tate? Liley? Brumpa?" because he wants to go see Travis' family.
And in case you've noticed a trend, the people he talks about most are his Dad, his brother, and his Grandpas. He is most interested in the men in our family.
I feel so lucky that he has such good men to idolize, and that he knows his Dad and his Grandpas, and that they're all in his life and so good to him.
I love that he adores his brother and that they can grow up together.
And it feels pretty great when he touches my arm, so gently, and whispers "Mama. Hey, Mama."
Hey, Micah boy.