I had hoped to post this on Saturday, your actual birthday. However, your sweet voice trilled happily over the monitor before 6 AM and when your eager feet hit the floor, I don’t think they stopped moving all weekend. As a result, that meant that mommy and daddy’s feet didn’t stop moving either. There was no time for mommy to slip away to her laptop or even to form a coherent thought.
You turned three years old at 6:48 AM on Saturday. Three! You are very much all little boy now, and my chubby-cheeked baby has stretched into a 39-inch tall string bean who looks much older. Daddy and I were reminiscing over the last year, and I’m sorry to say that it was a stressful one for our little family. Each day was carried out under an omni-present cloud of anxiety and worry about Mum’s health and that made its way down to you as we had IMPORTANT discussions in hushed voices and upended routines.
And I cannot forget the stress caused by our foray into preschool, how miserable you were and how I doubted my intuition and scrutinized your every gesture, conversation or interaction like you were a science experiment that needed to be fixed. And finally, the biggest change of all in May: going to daycare every day instead of your grandmother’s.
I’m so sorry for how rough and confusing the year was. We tried our hardest to shield you from the craziness going on and let you continue to be the happy, cheerful little boy you are. I’m amazed at how much you have changed. A year ago you weren’t speaking much, but now you are a chatterbox. It was in the fall that I realized you had memorized the books we read each night and could recite them on your own.
You also started telling jokes – quite clever ones actually! Daddy and I still giggle about how you called Lucy’s tail her “tender.” You’ve started to sing the songs you know, and you have an excellent voice! You’ve handled the daycare transition well – much better than I thought you would – and you are talking about your classmates at home; it makes us smile to think that they are telling their parents about you.
You stopped that heart-stopping running off the minute I turned away when we were outside and now display a love of nature that I hope we can nurture and help last. You see beauty where others see weeds, and I’m reconciled to the fact that any flowers we plant may be there only for you to admire and pick. Our porch and driveway are littered with your floral offerings. Your artistic ability astounds me: your coloring has progressed from scribbles to trees, grass, rainbows and suns that look remarkably like what you say they are.
Unfortunately you had a few other milestones that were unpleasant, yet unforgettable. I’ll never forget the night you coughed at your easel and out came a tell-tale bark: croup! But croup was nothing compared to your cutting open your chin and needing stitches. The nice doctor who fixed your chin helpfully told us that those stitches were unlikely to be your last after he observed you in the waiting room.
Sweet Pea, you are so loving. You give the best hugs, and it is precious how you pat our backs when you give us hugs as if to say, “There, there. It’s ok, Mommy.” You have a huge heart, and I love that you comfort crying classmates or become upset when you think others are upset or sad. You are always on the go, racing to get a different stuffed animal from your room, bringing an armful of trains into the kitchen or building long trains on your train table, but I am very impressed with how long you can concentrate on an activity you enjoy.
I hope 3 will be a great year for you. We’re going to the beach soon, and I’m looking for a soccer team for you since you are enviably coordinated. I can’t wait to see how you continue to develop and grow.