You are now three and almost a month. I shed a private little tear on your birthday this year, because I can’t believe you are now just a boy. No longer a baby or a toddler, but a proper boy.
Although you’ll never be just a boy will you?
There is so much to write about you. You change quickly and amaze me every day. So many little things that I want to remember about you right now.
Three year old you.
You love life and have a zest for it that most adults can only dream of. You bound out of bed at 6.30 (7 if we’re lucky, 7.30 whenever Lila decides to wake up early!), shuffle into our bedroom clutching ‘Big Buzz’ with a huge smile on your face and wait to be hoisted into the middle for a cuddle. You don’t stay long. Seconds later and after a few bony elbow jabs to our poor bodies, you’re up and ready for action.
And when you’re involved there is always a lot of action. You are noisy and full of energy and never stop moving. Ever. Like your Daddy, even when you’re still you jiggle a foot or tap a hand or fiddle with something. And your brain works ninety miles an hour. One minute we’ll be eating dinner, the next you’ve leapt up to go and fetch something that we were talking about a week ago. And it needs to happen right now, that very minute. No matter what anyone says.
Then there’s the talking. Always, always talking. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? All. The. Time. We indulge your questions for as long as possible, until we run out of answers and you have to settle for ‘because it just is’. I love that you are so inquisitive. I guess the world is one pretty fascinating place when you think about it and you get so excited about so much of it.
…And those ‘its’ generally revolve around boy stuff. You always have been and probably always will be a boys boy. You love nothing more than hanging out with big boys. Playing with your Grandpa and Grandad’s tools or hanging out at Uncle Ed’s workshop. Most of all you love your Daddy. And it melts my heart when I see how excited you are on a Friday and we talk about the days of the week and you realise that tomorrow is Saturday and that means ‘Daddy’s not going to go to London’. You two play together like nothing I’ve ever seen. Your games are so intricate and involved that you have a grown man rolling round on the floor making those boy crash/broom noises that only boys can make. Ones that I try to do but they never sound quite as good. You two are special and long may it continue.
Sometimes though, you are one little ball of contradiction. You’ll happily throw yourself off a slide, roll down a hill and make not one bit of fuss if you fall over. But get a drop of water on your t-shirt and you’re in major meltdown. Confident, boisterous and larger than life one minute, you have a sensitive side that is never far away. A typical Cancerian. Some situations overwhelm you and you need a reassuring hand and a few soft words to get you through.
I like the contradictions. I like that you are all slugs and snails, but your cuddles are like no other. I like that you play beautiful games by yourself, but other times you follow me round like a little shadow. That you have always loved food, but sometimes potatoes are quite simply the worst thing ever.
We’ve had so much fun in these recent weeks. Exploring our new home, going on adventures. I can’t believe that not so long ago I wasn’t sure how we’d manage during these months before pre-school started. And remember that phase? That’s long gone. Now I can’t imagine you not being here all day every day and am dreading the change to our routine that pre-school will bring. I know you are going to love it though. It’s what you need.
You know what Oliver? I still look at you daily and can’t believe you’re mine. I love it when you tell me you love me and when you climb onto my lap and suck your thumb and nestle in like you are a few months old. I love who you are. You are so fun and friendly and loving. A joy to be around. More than anything I love watching you grow and being part of it all and being able to say that I am your Mum. Best job in the world.