Today you are three.
I just talked to Daddy and he says you were a bear this morning. You didn't want to go to school. You didn't even want to have "Happy Birthday" sang to you.
Three is a tough year. I remember, just after Ainsley turned three I took her to the doctor and mentioned how defiant and impossible she had gotten. The doctor smiled and said "Yeah, three is way harder than two."
No one tells you that before you have a three year old. They call it the Terrible Twos, not Threes. Maybe because at two a child gets brave and ambitious and makes a parent go insane with all they're in to. But at three, a child actually starts thinking like a little person. Starts reasoning and figuring all the stuff out. They do know what's right and wrong, what should and shouldn't be done...but they don't care. And that is way harder to deal with than the brave little two year old.
Three is still in diapers but wants to try on the potty every day.
Three still needs help getting his clothes on but insists on doing it himself.
Three loves his big boy bed but still wants to cuddle and rock.
Three is hilarious. Sometimes on purpose and sometimes not.
Three loves to follow his big sister around but still has a voice of his own.
Three is fist fulls of energy bouncing off the walls but crashes hard at bedtime.
Three holds so many contradictions. It's this transition from toddler to little kid. It's the want for independence but the need for help in a grown up world.
Freddie, you have brought so much joy and laughter into my life. You are passionate and loud and determined and beautiful. You are smart and witty and brave. Sometimes you are more than I can handle. You are, by far, the most amazing little boy I have ever met and I'm so grateful that you burst on the scene three years ago.
I love you little man. Happy Birthday.