>And Now You are Three
>Dear Bruiser,
It seems like just yesterday we were celebrating your second birthday.
I remember thinking you were so big and so cute. How could you possibly get any bigger? Or cuter?
Well, you’ve managed to do both.
What a year two has been for you! You may have had a thing for Dora, and gone through a phase in which you insisted on being called ‘Buttercup,’ but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that you were all boy. Who can forget the Brou Bra Ha you caused or your obsession with “Queen” and “Diet Coke?” Despite all the Barbies and princess wands and maribou and makeup in our three-girl house you managed to emerge as a growling, graarring, rough and tumble, dirty-faced, mini-caveman– and we all watched you in perpetual fascination.
In true fourth-child fashion, you spent your second year tagging along to Punky’s acting classes, zoo classes, ballet classes and nature classes, as well as your older sisters’ soccer games and events. And you generally managed to steal the show wherever you went with your antics and exuberant personality.
‘Nuff said.
Luckily, at two you also developed a tiny but desperately needed cautious streak,one that (usually) stopped you from running into the street or cruising out the front door when no one was looking.I thanked God for that- You put me through so many scares at the age of one that I had no idea how you were going to make it to adulthood. Now, I’m feeling far more hopeful!
One thing that didn’t change in you at two, though, was your amazing ability to make a mess, whether the medium was chocolate pudding….
Although you didn’t always appreciate the aftermath.
Yes, as a two-year-old, you certainly honed your ability to make mischief. It’s a trait that runs pretty deep in our family line and this past year, it got you (AND ME) in trouble more times than I’d like to admit.
But your mischievousness is far outweighed by your incredible love and affection for your family. Your laughter and charm are infectious; you’ve managed to win over everyone in this house and as a result, you get away with far more than you should…
…especially when it comes to your sister. She has put up with your hair pulling and general roughness and she has, over time and with an extraordinary amount of patience, taught you to be a kinder and gentler little boy. This last year, the two of you have grown much, much closer– Your budding vocabulary helped things along quite a bit.
At two, your sister was your best friend. I hope she always will be.
And your heart broke into pieces this past year when she began leaving you each day for kindergarten. The post I wrote about your adjustment continues to be one of the most read on this blog. Thousands of hearts ached on your behalf. To this day, you still hate it when she’s gone, and you can’t wait until the day when you can go to school with her.
Yes, Bruiser, love hurts.
But somehow, I think you already knew that.
At two, my dear son, you were a tamer of lions and a prince among men, not to mention a connoisseur of really expensive toys and an excellent projectile vomiter. You became the kind of boy a mother could have trouble letting go of some day. You also managed to try my nerves like no one else has before or since.
I loved exposing you to new people and places while you were two and watching your reactions. I’m so thankful I had a little extra time on my hands so that I could do that. Our finances got tight and our stress levels increased, but I was there for TWO. And I will never, ever regret that.
Because I know that your father and I don’t have a whole lot of years as the primary people who shape your world. And I want to make the most of what’s been given us.
So it shouldn’t surprise me that in the blink of an eye and the swish of an overgrown rat’s tail, you turned three.
You are three now, and speaking in complete sentences. “Get out of my room, Mommy.” “I want more ice cream.” And, to strangers sympathetically clucking when you’re out somewhere and upset: “STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!!” You are three and unwrapping birthday boxes all by your big self. And expressing amounts of awe that are sure to please grandparents as far away as California.
You are three. And I am so proud of you. And so very thankful that God chose me to be your mom.
Happy birthday, Bruiser. I love you with all my heart.
