It's National Hug your Piggy Bank Week

Cole loves his piggy bank. He loves it so much that he carries it around the house and regularly asks us to give him money so he can insert it into the slot. It's become almost a ritual, sort of like giving the cats treats has become a ritual (more on what that is doing to Kiwi's figure in another post).

His requests are very comical and probably a precursor to what he may sound like in his adolescence.
"Dada, give me money."
"Mama, can I have money?"

Last week the inevitable happened. He dropped his piggy bank and it broke into pieces. This happened while I was at work. The very next day Dada produced the second and last piggy bank we had on reserve (he received two as presents). Since he was given the new piggy bank he has promised to take good care of it.
"I pet it," he says as he caresses it.
"I take good care of it," he says as he hugs it to his chest.

It is very sweet, but let's not kid ourselves- you and I both know where all of this hugging and caressing is going to lead.

Hugging the piggy

Pardon the (sometimes out of focus) iPhone pics, but my photographer husband has been hiding the "house" DSLR so that a certain pair of toddler hands don't hug that too.

Trying to get a little bit closer to the piggy.

Broken piggy

"I hug Piggy."