This dude is three and a half, officially, which delights him. He even stopped a few strangers in the grocery store tonight to tell them, "It's my half birthday today!" Praise the strangers who smiled in return.
He uses the word "actually" correctly now, and he starts all his negotiations with "How about..." followed by some ridiculously unrealistic proposal. "How about....I watch nine Curious Georges?"
He is shy in new situations and sticks close to me but once he warms up, boy does he shine.
He's so perceptive, so observant, that it just continues to blow my mind. Today, we stopped at Subway so I could get a sandwich. I got back in the car with that sandwich and a bottle of water and he said, "Mommy, you got water! Because you don't drink Diet Coke anymore." I maybe mentioned this to him once, in the grocery store a couple weeks before, and he remembered. Harvard-bound memory skills right there, am I right? (I know I'm not right but STILL.)
His personality and imagination are on fire lately. The other day we were kicking a mini-soccer ball around the living room and he held up a finger to stop me, pulled his play cellphone from his pocket (the one I didn't know was in there) and proceeded to have a pretend conversation with his Nana. He flipped it close, turned back to me, and said, "That was just Nana. Your turn now."
While I loved age two to the moon and back and will always sing its praises, I feel pretty lucky for age three so far, half-way through. The questions are relentless, the boundary testing is constant, the attitude is popping up, all true statements, but I expected all of that. I often say that age three requires me to be a much different parent than I was a year ago, that I can't give age three an inch or it'll take 95 miles, that I have to be "on" so much of the time, but if I rise to the challenge, he's the same incredible kid he's always been. Still so full of sunshine and smiles. So sweet, so warm, so easy to talk with and hang out with and BE with, that I just continue to feel like THIS BOY, MY GOODNESS, is really something else.
I often wonder if I'm good enough for him, doing right and best and all that. All normal things moms question about themselves all the time. Are his memories happy? Does he know how much I love him? Is he growing up to be just who he is meant to be? How much therapy will he REALLY need? Will he call home when he's 25? And on and on.
Then, 6:30 a.m. rolls around, he calls out that he's awake and I go in (so sleepily) to get him. He claps, he warps his arms around my neck, he whispers "I love you, Mommy," and I figure we're doing just fine.
Halfway from three, halfway to four. So good today.
(Just so you know, kid, if you don't call home when you're 25, I'll just keep calling until you answer.)
