(Three years old, tomorrow. But I'm posting this today because tomorrow I plan to be wonderfully busy.)
Three years ago I gave birth to a ray of sunshine, a mimic, a chatterbox, a smartypants, a drama queen, a mischief-maker, a daredevil, a snuggle monster, a comedian, a ham, a goofball, a tenderheart, a storyteller, a child with a face so sweet and open it breaks your heart sometimes just to look at him.
All that, plus the world's longest set of eyelashes.
He thinks Grandma's name is "Honey," because that's what she calls him. He used to call Cheerios "chowder," but he doesn't do that anymore. He still rides a broomstick around the house while humming the Harry Potter music, and he still sets up elaborate picnics and birthday parties in the living room but he also knows how to play Angry Birds and read books on the iPad. He is always the one I lose at the store, the one I panic over and then find 30 seconds after giving his description to the manager, the one I can't ever seem to stay mad at for more than 15 seconds. He is newly impossible and tempestuous and stubborn, but he still scrunches up his nose when he smiles. He still asks me to cuddle with him, and hug him, and kiss him. He says he loves me so so so much, and asks how much I love him.
"Up to the moon," I tell him.
"And back!" he finishes. "On a rocket ship! To outer space!"
"And back," we say again, together. "ZOOM!"
Music: Mardy Bum by Arctic Monkeys