the boy is three

 

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You’re such a stinker, my sweet sweet boy.  My favoritest littlest man.  I came into your room this early morning with a big number “3” balloon to wake you up, singing happy birthday, and you’re like, “No, momma!  Don’t sing.”  That’s so you.  You don’t love the attention at ALL.  You are such a quiet and tender spirit.  You can be louder than both of the girls, don’t get me wrong.  Never have I heard someone with a better ear-piercing high-pitched scream!

I say it every year, every birthday, with every child, I know, but I still can’t believe you’re turning three today.  You changed SO much this year, you changed from being my baby boy to my little man.  You are so tall, almost taller than Phoebe now, and definitely outweighing/outgrowing her.  You love pancakes every morning if you can have them, or puffins if not.  You love helping me make pizza so you can snack on the pizza cheese.  You fell in love with Mater + Lightning McQueen this year, and the infatuation still stands.  You gave up your bottle + after-nap snuggles this year.  Now when you wake up in the morning and after your nap, you push away my hugs and kisses and get right to work playing.  You love driving your cars and toys, laying down on the floor next to them so you can slowly watch the wheels turn as they drive.  You were obsessed with the Christian Mother Goose cd, able to recite the whole thing with it as we listen.  You’ve really started to learn and engage with our bible reading time, wanting me to ask you questions and explain to you like I do to Phoebe.  You transitioned from crib to toddler bed this year, loving every second of your freedom to get in and out on your own like a big boy.  We gave potty training a concerted effort this year.  Maybe in 2016.  You love for me to sing “There Once Was a Wild Little Donkey,” and “The B.I.B.L.E” (or “B.I.E.L.D” as you say it) before bed.

I love how when I ask you what you want or what you’d like to do, you say “Hmmmm…How’d about…”  Or how you call the blender/food processor “the louder.”  Popcorn is “pine corn.”  After breakfast you tell me your hands are “stinky,” meaning sticky.  In bed at night, you ask for a “speck” of water (sip).  When I asked you what you want to do when you grow up, you said “go sledding.”  You still get the hiccups HORRIBLY whenever I tickle you or get you laughing hard.  One night I was kissing you goodnight and you asked me, “Momma, where is God?”  And then as I’m answering you started sniffing and said, “I smell spiders.”  Classic.  Or how when you hurt something or we reprimand you for something, you always tell us “but that hurts my feelings,” pointing to some random part of your body.  When I tell you I’m going to eat you up, especially your cheeks because they’re so full of juice you say, “NO!  It’s all gone!”  Daddy was teaching you how to put your own shirt on, how to look for the tag, and as you were putting your pants on you said, “But I don’t see the flag!”  One morning you were coughing when you got up, I asked you how you felt and you said, “Berry Happy.”  You are still super attached to your “dee-tee” and now “little mr. fox” and “big mr. fox.”  You are starting to play with lots of imagination.  I love when you are playing with your big and little tractors and little one is the baby and the big tractor is “tractor mommy,” and listening in to the conversations they have: “do you need to go potty?” “No, I don’t need to go potty.”  “Tractor mommy!  Tractor mommy!  Where are you?”  Etc.  I love how one night at dinner you said to daddy, “watch your ‘tude, dude.”

Life with you is hilarious.  You are quiet and mischievous and stubborn as all get out.  You just recently started to ride Phoebe’s strider, after a year of trying to encourage you to pedal your “kykle” with your feet/pedals.  Now all you want to do is ride the strider.  If you feel like we are going to force you to do anything, you are afraid and dig in your heels, but if we give you some space and some choice in it, you will give something new a try.

We took you rock climbing for the first time yesterday to the indoor rock wall at the YMCA.  When I was walking you into the rock climbing area, you said “I just want to go home and watch a movie.”  Ha.  Finally toward the end, after watching all of us climb, you decided to try bouldering around and were so proud of yourself.

I know this next year will be full of change.  I know you’ll get the hang of this growing up thing in your own time and way, without too much force and pushing from others.  I hope we can do the best job of guiding you and helping you and encouraging you as you go through this process.  One night after I scolded you for jumping on me/hurting me, you burst into tears and said, “I just can’t be a good boy.”  You are so precious to me, my little man.  The truth is, none of us can be a good boy and girl on our own.  We need a Savior!  I hope and pray for you every day to love Him and turn your heart and life over to Him.  I believe in your own time and way, when you’re ready, you will.  I see in you such a kindness, a sensitivity toward the hurting and a desire to please God.  I see you.  I will walk beside you all the way.  I will love you, even when you push me away.  I will always be your momma + you will always be my boy.

I’m so thankful for you and the gift that it is to raise you and to love you.  Happy 3rd birthday Noah-man.

Love
Mommy

2 thoughts on “the boy is three

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