I cannot believe that you are going to be 3 years old already. It seems like just yesterday, I found out I was having a boy and I lost the key to the Volvo and was stranded at the doctor's office on the night before Kennedy's birthday party. I still remember how scared I was to have a boy. What on earth was I going to do with a boy?!
And you are all boy. No mistaking that. You like to get dirty. You run everywhere. No walking for you, man. What's the point in walking if we can run?! You bounce off the walls, the couches, the floor like it's rubber. You get hurt about 15 times a day and generally it doesn't phase you. You just find something else to bounce off of. You crack us up all day long; I just wish I could keep up with you more often.
You eat just like your father. I wouldn't believe if I didn't see it with my own eyes every day. You eat off your plate, off the table, off the floor, off other people's plates. It doesn't matter to you. You love steak, chicken, pork, fish. Just about any protein. Vegetables? You can take them or leave them. You often feel like the carbs are an unnecessary way to mask foods. Why would I eat my eggs in a tortilla when I could just eat the eggs, cheese, and bacon? Why do I need a hot dog bun? The hot dog is just fine by itself. Rice? If I have to, but I'd prefer just to pick the meat out of the stir fry! All of this about every two hours all day long. And if we forget to feed you? Well, you just open the fridge and bring us the bread, the jam, and the yogurt. A subtle little reminder: Mom, I'm hungry...again!
You have a great sense of humor, you love people, and you have the best expressions. You come into our bed early in the mornings and cuddle with us. It's the only time all day you sit still and we cherish those moments.
You have done an amazing job adjusting to life in this culture where every female wants to touch, pet, and hug you. You have more patience with that than I do, and I applaud you for it.
You are a great kid. I couldn't have asked for more, and I'm so grateful that God gave me you, my little boy. Your dad says I'm going to have stop calling you "little" soon. I'll try to stop doing it in public, but I'm pretty sure you'll always be my little boy.