Finn likes to play baseball with a small wiffle ball and my hair brush. After one of his grand slams down the hallway, I told him that when he is 3 years old, he'll be able to be on a REAL baseball team. Guess I should have saved that information until August because he keeps saying, "I'm 3 now! Time to play baseball!" or "Time to be on a baseball team yet?". In the car a few days later, Aaron and I had just explained to him for the hundredth time that he won't be 3 for several months when he started grunting and stretching his neck and legs out.
Me: (laughing) What are you doing Finn?
Finn: Tryin'...(grunt and stretch)...to get...(grunt and stretch)...older!
Good luck with that one buddy.