Ah, Milo. He of the wrinkled nose and sparkling eyes and pink cheeks and really bad attitude. Milo is a man of extremes: either joyful or awful with little in between. Mostly joyful, thankfully.
Like when he is a kissing bandit. He kisses all the ladies at school. On the lips. He looks forward to kissing you.
Or when he's grunting any of the 21 words he knows. I try not to dwell on the fact that when Lu was his exact age, she knew over 100 words. He may be able to get by on his looks or that whole kissing thing.
Remember when I didn't want to have another baby?