The other day I had a baby boy and he looked like this:
He was tiny.
He was really, really, really cute.
He was really helpless and needed me to quickly figure out how to be a Mama.
He cried a lot.
And then he smiled.
And then he laughed.
And then he walked.
And yesterday he reminded me of the things I needed to buy in the grocery store.
Then he unloaded my cart for the cashier, and helped put the bags in the car.
When we got home, he took off his jacket and hung it up.
And then he said, “Mom! Come quick! Baby Alice is trying to get Huck’s water! No, no, baby Alice! Stop that.”
He. Is. Big.
He is THREE YEARS OLD and this is something I just cannot quite grasp.
I have a 3-year-old.
He is seriously active.
He loves his Mama and Daddy and Baby Alice and dog, Huck.
He will often tell someone we see all the time, “This is my baby sister! Her name is Alice.”
He will tell you this even if he saw you yesterday.
Even if you are their grandparents.
He is so proud of her.
In this past year, he became the best big brother I have ever seen.
I absolutely wasn’t prepared for the amount of love he would have for her.
He just would do anything for her.
(Unless it’s let her play with his cars/trains/trucks. OBVIOUSLY.)
He always wants to hold her, or for her to “play” with him.
Their love is awesome.
I love that he calls her “Baby Alice.”
That is her name. I have never heard him call her just “Alice.”
He loves school and his friends and teachers.
When I picked him up last week, he said to them, “Bye-bye Ms. Peggy and Ms. Jeanine! Thank you for my craft!”
He loves to drink almond milk, which he calls “shake-shake” because he thinks it’s a milkshake.
He would love to drink a gallon of it a day, and is very sad/pouty when I tell him it’s “water time.”
He is smart enough to ask us to read him the longest books he has before bed.
He loves airplanes, trucks, cars, helicopters, trains, motorcycles, fire engines, dump trucks and garbage trucks.
He is someone who truly will laugh until he throws up.
We have to watch for this and we he starts laughing too hard, we try to be less funny.
(It’s hard. We’re SO FUNNY, y’all!)
He loves for us to sing songs.
And he really, really loves to dance.
His dancing consists of walking around and shaking his head back and forth really fast.
But if he wants to dance with you?
That means you hold hands, spin around in a circle really fast and sometimes pick him up so he flies.
He talks so much and so well, it’s hard to remember he’s only…THREE!
He is smart.
He is super cute.
He is very loving.
He is kind.
I know I only had him the other day, but man, I can’t imagine life without his smile.
His laugh is contagious.
And I am constantly overwhelmed by his sweetness.
Tom. Is. Three.
I’m so happy, I may just laugh until I throw up!
(But I probably won’t.)
Happy 3rd Birthday, little man!