Three Years Old

It's your favorite time of year. That time when everyone gathers to celebrate you. Over and over. And over. I truly believe you must think your birthday is a one week affair involving gifts from anyone who looks your way and cake at every turn. I know you're asking yourself, "What's the problem with that?" And now you are wondering when we are going to institute a one-month celebration of your birthday since this one week thing is barely cutting the mustard.


You were given the option of either Cars or Thomas for your birthday theme this year. Without hesitation you declared a Thomas cake was what you wanted, and so the theme was set. We kicked off birthday week with a small celebration with just you, me, dad and Evan. You got blueberry pancakes for breakfast, followed by swimming at the pool, then a lunch of french fries, chicken fingers for dinner, cupcakes for dessert and a movie to top off the night. That, my friend, is one kicking birthday. But at the end of the day you were asking, "When's my bird-day?" I could tell you just weren't buying that a cupcake with a singing number three candle was it. Your growing brain was telling you there had to be more.


And more there was. The next day was the party you were waiting for, complete with balloons and streamers and chalk drawings on the sidewalk. Your little friends started to arrive and suddenly the world came together, rainbows bursted from the clouds and unicorns danced upon your shoulders. You could not have been happier to see everyone - and their presents - and play with all the new goodies. And then finally, the moment you had waited for in great anticipation for over a month - THE birthday cake. Not one of those dinky little cupcakes like I tried to pawn off on you the night before. The huge, monstrous, you-will-eat-cake-for-nine-more-days Thomas cake of your dreams. Life, as you know it, was complete.


It has been fascinating to watch your progress towards three. You learn so much on a daily basis and I'm stunned by what you retain. You know I drive slowly in playground zones, and I love that if for some other reason I'm driving slow you ask, "Is there a playground zone?" Sort of like a backseat driver but without you even understanding you are being one. You also make me laugh daily with your almost-there language skills. A couple of weeks ago, you ran into my room as I was getting dressed and declared "happier nose".

"You're happy I'm getting on my clothes?" I asked, mildly confused by your statement.

"NO! Happier nose!"

"You're happy your nose is feeling better?" I inquired, sure that the end to your recent cold was making you this level of crazy.

"NO! NO! Happier nose, happier nose!" Your intensity was increasing as was your wild-eyed exasperation with me.

"You're happy to know what?" I asked, grasping for straws.

Hello, camel's back. Meet the straw.

"NOOOOOOOO! HAPPIER NOSE! HAAAAPPPPPIIEEERRR NOOOOSSSE!"

In an effort to end this rather excruciatingly painful conversation, I asked you to please show me what you were talking about. You took my hand and directed me to your LeapPad reader and a sheet of paper that was supposed to go on it. You pointed to a happy face on the sheet and declared, again, "happier nose!"

Clear as mud. Thanks, Rain Man.

I needed this to end. I was half naked and being berated by my child for my foolish inability to decipher his obvious critical need involving a pink LeapPad and picture of a smiley face.

I stuck the sheet in, readjusted the cartridge, played around and finally got the thing to do what is was supposed to. Your smile went ear to ear as you pressed the smiley face on the sheet and the reader started to sing, "If You're Happy and You Know It."

Happier nose. Happy and you know it. Call the president. I've cracked the code.


For as frustrated as we can make each other, I absolutely love this stage in your life, Jack. You are vibrant and excited. You can't wait to get out of bed and get the day started. You absorb new ideas and information and I can only hang on for the ride when you decide to share some of your newly acquired knowledge. If I could keep you at this age, I absolutely would. It is magical. Exhausting, but magical. I'm so proud of you, my little boy. Lately, you often ask me to hug you. As we sit in the chair in your room, you on my lap with your arms wrapped around my neck, I whisper into your ear how special you are, how much I love you, how proud I am every day of the boy you are. You murmur back softly how much you miss me and love me. Oh, Jack. I'd pay any amount of money to have those moments last my lifetime. Happy birthday, my sweet big boy.

You make me a happier nose.


Love,
Your Momma