Happy birthday little boy. You’re one of my favorites.
You come into my room in the early mornings just to say hi, and your smile nearly splits your face in two it’s so big. Then you snuggle in beside me, on the nearby mat and often go back to sleep for a little while. Sometimes you just tell me things that you need to tell me right away in a stage whisper that rivals most people’s talking voices for volume.
You tell me things like, “I am getting really stronger now mama. I’m getting vewy big!”
A year ago it was so exciting that you were finally talking, and now you process everything verbally, rehearsing the same scenario over and over as you settle that little fact or story somewhere in your brain to stay for a while.
“Mommy is this too much?” You ask, as you fill your water glass to the very top and overflowing a little.
“Yes, it’s too much. Take less next time.”
“Oh, ok mommy. I will be mow cawful next time.”
Next time. “Is this not too much water mommy?”
It’s fun to watch you practice things this way, most of the time.
You’ve discovered books. You love to sit and read books together now. I used to have to use trickery to get you to sit still through a short little story book. Now you ask me to read. When we finish you rate the stories. They are all “really good books”. Your current favorite is the three Billy Goats Gruff. But I think it’s only because we misplaced Go, Dogs, Go recently and you’re starting to forget about it.
Sometimes when you are sick I ask how you are feeling when you creep in at dawn and you answer, “Not feeling so very well yet mommy.”
You are at the age when you are extremely offended if you were running to help someone and a faster, older, person beat you to it. Your frustration is audible, probably to the entire village.
You are a loud, bulldozer of a boy, full of joy and life and the ability to project.