happy birthday, little man!

25 Feb is The Boy's birthday. He is three years old. Already.

When I was pregnant with The Boy, I was afraid. There was no question that we wanted to have more than one child, so getting pregnant pretty much on schedule was never even questioned. Once I was pregnant, however, I became more and more afraid. I had carved out a pretty nice family already. I had a beautiful daughter who, at 18 months, had begun to sleep and eat predictably. I had a semblance of routine and balance. Everything was working. Why, oh why did I mess with that? Why would I throw a baby into the mix and "ruin" everything? I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't love The Boy as much as I loved The Babe. How could I love anything as much as I loved her?

Compounding the fear was the fact that The Boy was, well, a boy. I never had brothers growing up. I didn't know what to do with a boy. I didn't care for trucks or rough play, I knew about dolls and animals and tea parties. What would I do with a boy? I was afraid. I was very afraid right up to the moment The Boy was born, and then even still afraid a bit while I was in the hospital.

I laugh at that fear now. The Boy came home from the hospital and fit right into our family. I cannot imagine our lives without him in it. Plainly put, I love The Boy.

I love that when he needs to have his fingernails cut, he tells me "Mommy, my need toenails!". He calls my fingernails "toenails", too, and he is very disappointed if they are not painted red. I love his laugh. It's so deep down and true. I love that when he dances, he bends his knees and bends his waist from side to side, moving his arms as he goes. I also love that he turns circles with his eyes closed until he's so dizzy he can no longer stand. I love that he knows when I need a latte, and that when we are at Starbucks he wants to put his own things in the trash. "My do it myself, Mommy. Leave my alone."... and he toddles off to the trash can, looking over his shoulder now and then to make sure I am watching him. I love that he's so proud of himself when he gets back to our table, and he always gives me "five".

I love how The Boy plays. Not only does he love his cars, trains, and trucks; but he sure loves to have a good tea party. I love that he will make me sandwiches with the play food and pour me tea. He always asks if I need cream and sugar, and he always puts them in my tea no matter if I wanted them or not. I even love that he wants to jump off furniture and roll around and wrestle on the floor. I love that he's taught The Babe to let loose and play a little rough once in a while.

I love that he's so in love with his sister that he wants to try whatever she's trying, do whatever she's doing. I love that he gives her a hug and a kiss every night before bed, and that he always says "goodnight, Dizzy", even if she's not listening. He has to do this. I love that if he forgets to kiss her goodnight, he insists on getting out of bed to go to her room and give her the kiss. I love that he can't fall asleep unless he's completed the ritual.

I love that he loves his bath so much that the mere suggestion of skipping the bath sends him into a frenzy. I love that he insists he needs to watch Lazy Town before his nap, but then doesn't watch because he's too busy playing. I love that when you tell him it's nap time, he gets really upset because he "missed" the show, even though it was on the whole time.

I love that he has his baby blankets, his "babies", and that they go everywhere with us. I love that the edges are frayed and the fabric is super soft from all the washes. I love that the blue babies are his favorites, but the green ones will do in a pinch. I love that he sometimes puts his babies in time out, and tells them "Two minutes, no playing!", as he walks away.

I love that The Boy is a snuggler. I love that a day doesn't go by when he hasn't curled into my lap for a good long hug. I love that he comes down from his nap each day, all warm and rosy from sleep, and the first thing he does is curl up beside me, wherever I may be. I love that I still get to hold him and snuggle with him when he's very quiet like that.

I love that at random points throughout any given day, The Boy will call out "Mommy?? Take me to my gym class!", and I have to answer "I'll take you when it's time!", and he bursts into a fit of giggles. I think he does understand that his gym class is just once a week, but I love that he's made up this fabulous little game and he thinks it's so funny.

I love that I now have a new appreciation for trucks and interesting cars. I never dreamed I would care, but I love that I find myself genuinely oohing and aaahing over the great big semi trucks, and I love that his whole day can be made just by spotting some sort of construction vehicle, especially if it's "working". I love that I am sometimes in the car without The Boy, and am still excited when I see a cool truck go by. I love that he has changed my perspective on so many things.

I love The Boy. I love him more than I can say and for more reasons than I can list. Happy Birthday, little man, I love you very much.