Today the youngest member of our family turns 3. While I was amazed last year when Max turned 2, this year I am totally blown away by the fact that he’s now a full-fledged kid. Last year at this time he hardly spoke, now he tells his feelings on a regular basis, can describe the events of a book or movie, and can actually tell you about his day if asked. He loves to jump and play, read books to himself in bed, pretend on any given day that he’s a pirate, a knight, or Batman. He loves to be outside, especially in the woods and looking at him playing there, clad in jeans, boots, and plaid remind me so of my father. He loves animals and worries about their wellbeing when he sees them alone outside. He is extremely sensitive and we find that we sometimes have to shelter him from harshness. Yet he is so strong and determined that his confidence can astound me. He is able to plan ahead and scheme, something that I both love and loathe simultaneously, yet I do admit that I appreciate his foresight. Especially when he thinks to pick up something I’ve forgotten or is one step ahead of me. I’ll admit that I’ve never enjoyed age 3 and am a firm believer that it is not the terrible twos, but rather the threes that are harder to contend with. I dread seeing my calm, gentle one enter this trying age, but I have hope that maybe he’ll surprise me. His sister, now aged 4, is much calmer than she was previously, so I do realize that it’s just one of many phases he’ll go through.
Happy Birthday Little Dude! We love you!