I can't believe it. My baby is three years old. No longer a baby. Up through two, I can still think of you all as my babies, but somehow, three just is NOT a baby. As you let me know every day, "I a BIG boy!" Unless of course you don't want to be a big boy for some reason (usually picking up your toys) then you tell me, "I not a big boy, I just tiny."
I have always called you my "unexpected blessing." And yes, it is true that I had no plans for baby number three. And when I first learned that you were in my belly, I was less than ecstatic. But, you made it abundantly clear very early on that God had big plans for you and you overcame so many odds to come into our world and stay in our world. And our world is so much better because of it.
Many people thought that you would never stop nursing, but our little secret is that it was Mommy as much as or more than you who wanted you to keep nursing. I loved how you always told me at bedtime, "Iona nuss." And how you called (and still call) my breasts "nursies." And still, six months later, when you are feeling tired, sad, or insecure, you still reach your little hand down (or up) my shirt seeking out my nursies for comfort. Yes, it is kind of annoying, and yes, sometimes it makes me think that you are a tiny little dirty old man, but really, I think a part of me will be a little sad when you don't need me to comfort you even like that anymore.
I love our snuggle time together after we take Bear to school. How you curl up in my lap just so and we read books and sing songs.
I love your now encyclopedic knowledge of construction vehicles. When we drive down the road, you point out all of the trucks as we go. "Look! A dump truck!" "Look, Mommy a cement blower!" "Wow! Look at dat crane!" You get such pure pleasure and delight every time we see a truck. And garbage day is almost nirvana to you. You sit at the window all morning some days waiting to see the various garbage and recycling trucks. I suspect we may be saving some money on college tuition because you seem determined to be a garbage man when you grow up. I only ask that you be the best garbage man you can be.
I cannot imagine my life without your sly, naughty little grin or your gigantic sense of humor. One of my favorite, favorite things is when you make up your own silly words to songs and then laugh and tell me, "That's funny!"
You love your brother and sister with an intensity and ferocity that is admirable. When you see Bear come out of school and wait in line to get in the van you get all excited. You have taken to calling him and he calling you "Brother." Only when you say it, you say, "Brudder," and it is just one of the sweetest sounds EVER. You two are the very best of friends. And it makes my heart swell to see you play and grow and enjoy life together.
I love how you say your 'L's as 'Y's and vice versa. So that "yellow" comes out "lellow" and instead of "I love you," you say "I yove you."
Your favorite letter is still 'W.' When we are talking about letters and tell you that 'B' is for Bug, you frown and insist that, no, 'W' is for Bug! You can spot a W anywhere, anytime.
I love when you are playing firefighters and insist on being called "Fireman Bug" and calling me "Fireman Mommy." I love being Fireman Mommy.
I adore how you make the most of every second of every minute of every day. You do everything with intensity and enthusiasm. When you play in the mud, you don't just get a little messy. You ROLL in the mud and get covered. When you read a book, you sink into it and give it your full attention. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were really, honestly reading it. When you are mad, you tell me, "Mommy, I ANGRY!" and when you are happy, you sing and smile and shine and hug and kiss and love.
Thank you, my sweet SugarBug for coming into my life. Thank you for blessing it with more joy and love and fun than I could ever have imagined or hoped for.
Mommy yoves SugarBug.