Goodbye to Three

Jackson,

As I write this, it’s late and I should be in bed. I can hear the clock on the mantel ticking, reminding me of the sleep I’m losing by staying up to blog. But I want to take the last hour of your being three to write down all the things I will remember from this past year.

Tonight before bed, I looked in your eyes and said you won’t remember anything about being three; only Daddy and I will remember these things for you. (Katie piped up and said, “Me too!” Yes, Katie might remember some of it too.) I asked you what you’ll remember about being three, and you said “I can’t remember!” So I reminded you of the good times you’ve had:

Building forts.

Being small enough to squeeze into the end table beside the couch.

Playing and laughing.

Learning to ride a big boy bike and a scooter.

Those things were enough to jog your memory and you agreed with every one. What other ways did we spend this year? Countless hours spent in the LoveSac reading library books.

A thousand repetitions of, “Stop jumping on the furniture! This isn’t a playground!” And how about, “If you spit at me/say that word/backtalk again, I will put hot sauce on your tongue/soap in your mouth!” Oh, buddy. You like to test the boundaries! 

This has also been the year of the Sqwishy, those silly little toys you adore.

And Legos have finally entered our house (mostly contained to the bathtub, though).

This year marked our first epic road trip as a family, and you were a champ – riding along with your buffalo and watching movies.

Potty training has also *finally!* come and gone. Once I backed off and let you do it on your own schedule, it was a non-issue. (Maybe that’s a good lesson for me as a parent in the years to come?)

What else is to come? As you turn four, there’s so much in store for you: a big boy bed, moving into a booster seat in the car, and learning to ride a bike without training wheels. Milestones that you will fly past and never realize the momentous impact they have on your life – until you have your own child one day who chugs right through these same rites of passage.

And when I see those moments happen for that future child, know that I can’t help but remember the little boy you are tonight: snug in your bed, waiting for your future to greet you tomorrow morning.

My Jack Jack Attack. Buddy Boy. Schmoopie! And my Sugar Boy too. I love you, and I love being your mommy. Happy birthday!