Three short years ago . . .

we blossomed from a family of three to a family of FOUR and we lovingly welcomed our little Thing 2 into our lives.

It's hard for me to believe you are three years old now - and how cliche is THAT? Doesn't every parent make that statement at some point in their lives? But it's so true. Where does the time go? Weren't you *just* the baby . . . and suddenly you're the middle child . . . far, on most days, from being a baby anymore?


As much as it pains me to admit it, you're truly a big boy. You've been potty-trained for months (and I really do feel like lighting the fireworks for that accomplishment, my boy), you get dressed by yourself, you feed yourself, you drink from a big cup, you use "grown up" cutlery, you show emotions like concern, compassion, and regret. You're a bright little guy and can easily tell us shapes, colours, numbers, and your latest accomplishment is that you can spell your name. You ooze pride as you follow Thing 1 in spelling his name, and explain that yours starts with "D" - and I can see in every corner and surface of your face how utterly important that is to you. You love to tell complete strangers your first, middle, and last name upon meeting them. You are polite and friendly (most of the time) and you often take people by surprise when you wave to them, call their name from across the street, or invite them into the house for tea when you greet them at the front door. Even if they are canvassing our street for money to support a local cause. And we don't know them from Adam.

You're a strong, serious, and sometimes firm individual. You enjoy puzzles and complicated toys, and you own a quiet patience not seen in your older brother, or your mother, for that matter. You will sit and work at something with fervour and concentration . . . until it is complete and you are happy with the way it has been done, exactly the way you want it to be done. If you are not content with how it was done, you will then make a lot of noise, yet start from scratch and do it all again. Until you get it right. Where other kids would have thrown the lego across the room - you will be putting them together all over again.

You are tough. If ten children took the same fall off their bikes and landed on ashphalt - you would be the one not crying, picking his bike up again, dusting off his jeans, and hopping back on. You attempt everything Thing 1 does - and surprisingly enough for your age - you usually keep up with him. You can't wait for your big brother to get off the bus each afternoon after school, and you accompany me to the bus stop each day. When you see the big yellow school bus approaching us, I see that glimmer in your eye and wait patiently for the "PETE'S COMING - IT'S HIS BUS" to spew out of your tiny lips.

Now that Thing 1 is in kindergarten in the afternoons, we are settling into a comfortable and reliable routine where we spend time together while Thing 3 naps peacefully in her crib. You like to inform me after we get home from the bus stop, that it is "time to come to your room now, for books and snuggle time". I worry - like I did with your brother - that I really should be using this time for teaching you all the things you will need to know for school. The alphabet, counting, printing, reading, etc.

But each afternoon escapes us as we read page after page, and book after book, and play pirates under your duvet, and bake muffins and cookies and taste test them when they are still far too hot for our sensitive tongues. Last week we snatched the opportunity on a warm, sunny afternoon to rake leaves and jump in them, and it was then, as I sat back for a moment to watch you run, yell, and frolick in all your innocence that I realized what a phenomenal little person you have become. Already.

Happy Third Birthday, Thing 2.