Today Bazooka—my baby boy—is three years old.
Earlier this week I took the time to re-read the letter I wrote on his 2nd birthday, and it’s crazy how much things have changed (and, when it comes to eating, how much things have stayed the same!).
No longer do I rock him to sleep—he transitioned (beautifully!) to a big boy bed in January.
“Binkle, binkle” has become properly pronounced “twinkle, twinkle” and “staw-uh” is just plain “star.”
But hummus is still king.
I adore looking back on these posts (an electronic baby book of sorts), so I thought I’d share another letter—this time, addressed to my sweet, curious, at-times-challenging three-year-old.
My dearest Bazooka,
Happy third birthday, my little love. I hope all of your firetruck dreams come true today and Saturday!
I always say it—and I probably always will until you’re 30—but I can’t believe how much you’ve grown and changed in the last year.
You’re amazing, and I just love to watch you (but not in a creepy way).
I love watching you explore in the back yard and play with sticks.
I am obsessed with watching your sweet little hands play with your cars and manipulate the iPad and Kindle Fire so you can watch your monkeys and ice cream and firetrucks!
And watching you wrestle with daddy and give Iggy kisses always brings a smile to my face and joy to my heart.
You are still so tiny, but you make up for your size with your strong will and generosity.
That’s one of many things I love about you, Bazooka—you’re kind.
You have a sweet, sensitive heart—even when you are rebellious and stubborn. I hope your heart always remains caring and nurturing (and that you hold a special place for mommy and daddy inside of it).
And I hope you always keep that strong mind and head of yours. You can do anything, sweet man, except for fitting your larger action figures into your smaller cars. It’s called physics, dear.
I hope and pray that you will learn one day (soon—ha!) that it’s ok to struggle. Much like your mama, you are so easily frustrated, and I hope you will realize that it’s ok to fail. That it’s fine to try and draw a circle or an “A” and maybe not be so great at it yet—because that’s how we learn.
I hope Iggy will always be your best friend, and I hope you will ask “mommy, come sit by me” until you’re a teenager—although I know I’m probably asking for too much.
You make me so proud when you listen to your teachers. And even though potty training is a struggle (i.e. we’re lazy and haven’t pushed you), I know you will get there because you’re determined and choose to do things in your own time.
Your vocabulary amazes me. You’re such a little talker, and the way you articulate things so well leads me to believe you’ll be an actor or politician or CEO.
Or maybe you’ll be a mechanic or engineer or surgeon—you love taking things apart and discovering how they work!
No matter what you decide to be in life, you’ll always be my first-born son, and nobody can take that away.
Happy, happy birthday, my little man! I hope your wishes come true today and always.