My dear, sweet little boy. Where does the time go? It seems like just yesterday we were meeting you for the first time (though you’d already been kicking and punching me for quite some time!). Your birth itself was rather uneventful. It was a four hour long induction. At the end, there we were, holding our fourth baby. A little boy weighing in at 8 pounds 7 ounces…bigger than any of your older siblings (though your little sister would eventually beat you by 8 ounces).
You’ve been a little rambunctious from the beginning, and so you still are today! You are a happy, healthy, strong 3 year old boy. You have no sense of pain (we’re fairly convinced you have a future in the NFL at defensive tackle), and rarely show any signs of fear. Sometimes, I wish you had just a little more fear. You make your old momma so nervous sometimes, while you climb furniture and old tractors without a thought for your own safety. You think fist fights are hilarious. Luckily, when you do get hurt, a kiss and a band-aid still makes you all better.
A year ago, we were worried, because you didn’t seem to talk much. You’d get frustrated and angry when you didn’t get what you wanted, but you didn’t talk much. You’ve come so far over the past year. You jabber up a storm these days. Unfortunately, it’s still mostly spoken in a foreign language. But, at least you’re talking! You’re speaking more clearly each day. By this time next year, I wonder if we’ll even be able to remember your special language!
You have an exuberance for life that is infectious. Everything is exciting for you…even if it’s just an episode of Paw Patrol (or is it Pop Control, as your big brother calls it…or maybe Bah Bole, as you assert?) that you’ve seen a thousand times…today. After all, we bought them on DVD so we could see them over and over again. You come grab my hands and start jumping up and down, telling me that you want to dance at least 3 times a day. I need to agree far more often! Just, maybe not while your baby sister is trying to sleep.
Sometimes, you look up and smile at me, and you have a certain twinkle in your eye. That’s when I know that the proverbial brown matter is about to hit the rotary cooling device. You’re up to something. If I say, “What are you up to?” in my biggest, gruffest Mommy voice, you’ll get a huge grin on your face and start giggling maniacally. Then, you’ll say, “I Doh-nooooo!” (that’s “I don’t know”…if you don’t speak Toddlerese). Perhaps, when I get up to follow you, there will be a flood in the bathroom, or I’ll walk through the door just in time to see you scramble up the side of the bathroom counter to a perch you’ve found standing in the bathroom sink…why is it always the bathroom? Your cuteness at these particular moments, when you know you’ve been ‘busted’ is incredibly endearing. But, no…for your own good, I must stand firm…all while hoping that someday you have a little boy just like you. Then you’ll understand. I just hope your future wife is a patient woman (Bless her heart!).
For all of the mischief you make, you pour out just as much love. You bring Mommy flowers, and give me huge squishy hugs. You can be as sweet and gentle with your little sister as you are rough with your big brother. You have a big heart, my dear son, and you use it well. I pray you keep it that way. I pray for you every day. On good days, I pray for all the big, grand things you might do with the life God gave you. Some days, all I can manage is constant prayers that your guardian angel is being extra vigilant! Thankfully, you’ve made it another year.
I love you son. More than you can possibly understand. Happy Birthday!