I unapologetically grab and kiss his cheeks every chance I get. He dances around the room, singing made-up songs about trucks and diggers, his blond hair falling in his eyes, and I can't take my eyes off of him. He is so incredibly beautiful.
We've come a long way this past year. It was only eighteen months ago that he learned to walk. Now he runs and leaps like he's had those legs for twenty years. His words flow into sentences, clearer and more fluent each day.
Some of his words are still adorably off base:
- Excabator (excavator)
- Noonles (noodles)
- Wuv (love)
- Banaboaf (buffalo / banana loaf)
Three is so much fun. We chat and giggle together. He'll sit quietly in my lap while I read him a story. He walks by my side at the grocery store. He climbs up into his car seat by himself. He talks on the phone with his Dad at work and his Nana overseas, casually holding the handset against his ear and wandering at the same time.
There are tantrums, but we prefer distractions. And the distractions are ample, now that he has a collection of favourite things: popsicles, jelly bears, chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, Bob the Builder, dinosaurs, excavators, bulldozers, garbage trucks, the girls next door, the park.
Happy Third Birthday, my darling boy.
To have you in our lives, watching you grow up, filling our lives with joy and happiness every day - that makes us the lucky ones.