Daily Archives: April 8, 2015

Thirty-six (36!) Months with Alvie Bean

Dearest Bean,

Today you are three. I am blown away both by the fact that you’ve seemed three for ages and that you’re already three.

You are such a little person! You have opinions (so many opinions) and thoughts and preferences. It’s crazy.

Birth Day!

Birth Day!

You challenge me. Continually. Both with your questions that I cannot always answer (“But mommy, how does the piston work?”) and your behavior which is very demon monkeyish from time to time.

1 month old

1 month old

You are simultaneously fearless and fearful and already Mommy’s kisses are not enough to scare away the bad things in the dark. “Your kisses are broken mommy. I still scared.”

Two months old

Two months old

I look at pictures of you from those first months when you were a squishy lump of love that scared me more than delighted me and I’m amazed at what you’ve become.

Three months old.

Three months old.

I want so much for you and it’s hard to start letting you choose your own adventure. Especially when that adventure is 100% cake based.

Four months old

Four months old

You love to laugh (“Mommy, let’s laugh together, okay?”) and to make others laugh. You are a tiny ham and a miniature stand-up comedian.

Five months old

Five months old

You like to do yoga with me every night before bed. I like to believe that it helps you calm and center yourself so that you can sleep (knock on wood, that’s going really well lately), but I think you just like to stick your butt in the air and wiggle it around.

Six Months Old

Six Months Old

You are so very smart. You recognize a lot of words, regardless of context (Open, stop, exit, your name and the names of all your classmates) and have memorized a couple of books so that you can read them to your Lightning McQueen.

Nine Months

Nine Months

In fact, your intelligence is such that I occasionally forget that I’m talking to a preschooler with insufficient frontal lobe development and try to use logic when there is no logic to be had. I get frustrated almost as much as you do when I’m trying to explain a complicated concept (like why we don’t go to school naked).

One Year old!

One Year old!

You teach me, more than anything, patience. Not just patience with you (although I need that a LOT), but patience with me. It’s easier to be kind to myself when you’re watching.

1 1/2 Years

1 1/2 Years

You love books almost as much as I’d hoped, and only slightly less than you love your trains. OMG your trains! Your favorite show is Dinosaur Train (thanks be to Freya that we’ve moved on from Daniel Tiger) and you know your favorite episodes by heart. You build train loops that stop in the Cretaceous Time Period. TIME TUNNEL APPROACHING!

Two Years Old

Two Years Old

In the last year you’ve grown almost a half a foot (last fall was crazy! you’d wake up complaining that your legs were broken). It’s slowed a bit now, probably because you refuse to eat dinner most nights. The other day you took four bites of the soup I’d made and I almost called the national news to let them know. I hope that means we’re approaching the end of the “I won’t try new things unless they’re fruit or chocolate” days.

2 & 1/4

2 & 1/4

Your memory is amazing, but your sense of the passage of time frankly sucks.  (“Mommy, we went camping at the lake last night and I had a walking stick and we slept in a tent.” “Mommy we went to a party at that building last night and I saw…[exhaustive list of every single person we saw at the party. In December.]”)

2 and 1/2

2 and 1/2

You are amazed at all the wonderful things we can see and learn. You love to look at books that are far beyond your age level and ask questions about the pictures. We looked at a Childcraft book on “Our Bodies” the other day and you asked a lot of questions (“I want to see your bones and blood, Mommy. Take them out.”) and made some very astute observations (“Mommy, those people don’t have penises or vaginas. Are they broken?” “No, just desexed for the kids, I guess.” “Mommy, where are the books with penises? I read those books.”)

Fashionista

Fashionista

You have very strong opinions about your favorite colors (pink and red and orange) and the clothing you wear. You dress yourself (with help) most days. Your fashion sense and mine don’t always mesh, but if it makes you happy to wear your Christmas pajama pants with a Spiderman shirt, who am I to argue?

I grow my hair long so I can have more ponies!

I grow my hair long so I can have more ponies!

When I asked you what you wanted for your birthday, you said you wanted a Dinosaur Train Cake and a beard.

With pink frosting and sprinkles.

With pink frosting and sprinkles. Beard forthcoming. No, really.

These last three years have been amazing and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. At least not today when you’re being amazing.

My favorite kiddosaurus rex.

My favorite kiddosaurus rex.

This morning, you were delighted by your birthday shirt, blown away by the Dinosaur Train cupcakes, and demanded that I sing “Happy Birthday” to you.

I love you like crazy, Bean. When you open your arms and say “Oh, Mommy. I love you. I’m so glad you and me are friends. Let’s cuddle,” I die.

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Happiest of birthdays, my darling.

Love,

Mommy