You turned three… oh dear… twenty days ago. TWENTY DAYS. I have never been that late with a birthday post. In my defense I will say that I didn’t make the time to write it because I was too busy spending time with you (and because you don’t like waiting for mom to finish on the computer). You’re an insistent little guy.
A friend of ours said that you look like what would happen if Harry and Ron somehow had a child, and it’s true. You look like both of them and yet distinctly like yourself. Your personality though is all your own. You are not cuddly unless you’re tired; the rest of the time when asked for a hug you yell “NO! NO HUGS! I DON’T WANT TO!!” while running away in the opposite direction. When you’re feeling cuddly you get Blankie, Lovey-Puppy, and Pikachu; your arms are completely full and you somehow manage to cork a thumb in your mouth for good measure.
It’s strange for me, raising a little person with much older siblings. You honestly don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to do all the things that they do. You watch their movies, read their books, play with their toys. You wanted a bike instead of a tricycle because you’re a “big boy”. You skipped right over Thomas the Tank Engine, Cars, Duplo. Right now your favourite movie is Guardians of the Galaxy and your favourite TV show is Lego Marvel Super Heroes: Maximum Overload (it stars The Avengers, plus Spider-Man. You would watch it on a continuous loop all day every day if we let you). It does mean that sometimes I’m not sure what will upset you, though. This weekend we watched The Princess Bride, and you were totally fine until the ROUSs made an appearance. I asked if you needed to leave the room until it was over. “No,” you said, “I can cover up my own eyes until that very big rat stops biting that man with the sword”.
You’re a really good eater – oh my gods, are you ever. You eat ALL THE THINGS (except eggs, for some reason). You often eat more than Ron and nearly as much as Harry. Peas are in, green beans are definitely out. Lasagna, pot pie, beef stroganoff, and fajitas are favourites. You love the idea of hot chocolate but not the reality; even slightly-tepid chocolate makes you annoyed. Eating in restaurants is the quickest way to your heart, and you especially enjoy getting dressed up for the occasion.
This will forever be remembered as the year you started sleeping past 5AM on a regular basis. You still get up at 6:30, which on Sunday mornings feels like punishment for something, but at least it’s close to sunrise. The downside is that naps are a thing of the past. Naps? NAPS ARE FOR BABIES, MOM.
You love music. You’re always singing something (sometimes they are even songs!) and the minute we get buckled in to drive anywhere you call out “can I listen to a song in the car?” Dance parties are popular, too. You asked Santa to bring you a recorder and you are frustrated that you can’t make pleasing sounds (but not so frustrated that you’ll stop honking and squeaking on it.)
You’re very good at building Lego kits. Your comprehension of the instructions is ahead of your manual dexterity, although you’re closing the gap fast. What is still very age-appropriate is your patience level; to wit, you have none. When building a new Lego kit you inevitably get tired of how long it’s taking and ask a grownup to finish it for you so you can start playing.
Into every life a little rain must fall, and I have to be honest, you test us on a daily basis. You are incredibly strong-willed, which is the word we’ve started using in place of “stubborn & often disagreeable little screech-bucket”. Man, can you throw a tantrum. There have been many moments where I’ve had to walk away just to keep my cool in the face of your always-illogical rage. You’re more spoiled than your brothers were, because if you throw a warbler at the grocery store there are two other well-behaved kids there, and it’s no good ruining things for them just because I won’t let you drop a glass jar of pickles into an empty shopping cart. You struggle with sharing. You are currently going through a name-calling phase that is driving me nuts; last night at dinner you said “mom, you’re LAME” with no preamble whatsoever (prompting Harry to bellow “I DID NOT TEACH HIM THAT!” in tones of horror). You hate clean-up time and dislike getting your hair washed.
In between times, though, you’re a funny little guy who adores his brothers (I mean, ADORES. If one of your brothers asked you to jump off a cliff, you probably would). You live for playing in Daddy’s game room, getting into Harry’s room where the action figures are, sneaking up the ladder to the top bunk, having chocolatey desserts. You’re exciting, exhausting, noisy, smart, intense, hilarious, and wonderful. We all love you so much and are delighted that you came into our lives.
Happy (belated) birthday, buddy.