Happy Birthday, Kiddo…

Three years. That’s how long my son’s been on this planet now. Three full years.

Actually, I don’t know if there’s anything I can write here without it coming across as trite. I can gush and say how much of a sweetie he is, or I can wax poetic on how I carried him for eight months (that’s right, I said eight).

Three. He’s not a baby anymore, nor is he a full-blown kid yet. He’s somewhat stuck in between. I got me a threeager. Out of the blue, he doesn’t want to wear diapers anymore. He wants underpants. but he doesn’t understand the mechanics yet of the potty, so usually the underpants get full of pee (of course, I’m copping out by using Pull-ups instead of true underpants). He rages with the full force of his lungs now. At night, he has discovered that the use of “Mommy!” shrieked as loud as he could gets Mommy storming in…as opposed to when he was simply content to lie in his crib, quietly playing.

He’s going through another word explosion again, testing out phrases like “No, thank you,” and “That’s a F1-Bomber!” I fear the Word of the Day/Month will soon perish, because he speaks so clearly now. The other day, he bent down with his head on the floor and said, “Look Mommy! I’m upside down!” No more ‘uppy-down’, huh?

Ah well. I knew this will happen. Insert “Ah! my baby’s growing up!” comments here. But you know what? I don’t have time to sit here, feeling nostalgic, wishing for the days when he just laid in my arms and cooed. The sun is out, the sky is blue, it’s pretty warm outside. I think I’m gonna treat my boy to a couple of hours at the park. Watch him run, arms and legs pumping, big fat grin spread across his face. Maybe put him on the big kid’s swing. Yeah, he’s old enough for that now.

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One Response

  1. Happy Birthday, honey! Hope it’s great! I love preschoolers, LaShawn!

    I will miss that age so much!

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