Happy Birthday, James!
Dear James,
What a big year it's been for you! You've learned to speak in complex sentences, to entertain yourself (and us) by making up elaborate stories starring your toys, to count, and to read a bunch of words. You've learned to imitate Ringo Starr's accent and to identify all the inhabitants and major geographical features of the Island of Sodor, despite your mean parents' limits on your screen time. You've learned to think and argue like a Jesuit lawyer, especially when you're explaining why it's impossible for you to comply with a parental request.
Most of all, though, you've become ever more wonderful. You're such good company now that I forget you're not even in preschool yet, and you've been remarkably patient with Thomas's demands on our attention and encroachments on your stuff. You are your own man, and have the courage to stick to your guns when other people don't share your tastes.
You're so funny, too: yesterday you waged all-out guerrilla warfare while I dressed you, then made friends again a minute later by cheering when I came out of the bathroom. "Hooray, Mama! You peed in the potty! Good JOB!" This morning I suggested you dress yourself, which you did with only a few lifts over the hard parts. You are splendidly independent.
I've noticed that you've been alternating lately between wanting to be a big kid and wanting to be a baby. (Best of all: "James is a baby today. I can't walk, so you have to carry me. Also you have to feed me. But I can talk just fine!") I understand; there are moments when I wish you could be a little more grown up (primarily when the place is littered with toys and you explain "James is much too young to know how to pick up these toys"), but part of me wishes you could be my baby forever. My birthday wish for you this year is that you'll enjoy becoming your own fabulous, grown-up person, and my birthday wish for me is that I'll know when to offer a hand, and when to back off and let you handle it.
I love you always, big three-year-old boy.
What a big year it's been for you! You've learned to speak in complex sentences, to entertain yourself (and us) by making up elaborate stories starring your toys, to count, and to read a bunch of words. You've learned to imitate Ringo Starr's accent and to identify all the inhabitants and major geographical features of the Island of Sodor, despite your mean parents' limits on your screen time. You've learned to think and argue like a Jesuit lawyer, especially when you're explaining why it's impossible for you to comply with a parental request.
Most of all, though, you've become ever more wonderful. You're such good company now that I forget you're not even in preschool yet, and you've been remarkably patient with Thomas's demands on our attention and encroachments on your stuff. You are your own man, and have the courage to stick to your guns when other people don't share your tastes.
You're so funny, too: yesterday you waged all-out guerrilla warfare while I dressed you, then made friends again a minute later by cheering when I came out of the bathroom. "Hooray, Mama! You peed in the potty! Good JOB!" This morning I suggested you dress yourself, which you did with only a few lifts over the hard parts. You are splendidly independent.
I've noticed that you've been alternating lately between wanting to be a big kid and wanting to be a baby. (Best of all: "James is a baby today. I can't walk, so you have to carry me. Also you have to feed me. But I can talk just fine!") I understand; there are moments when I wish you could be a little more grown up (primarily when the place is littered with toys and you explain "James is much too young to know how to pick up these toys"), but part of me wishes you could be my baby forever. My birthday wish for you this year is that you'll enjoy becoming your own fabulous, grown-up person, and my birthday wish for me is that I'll know when to offer a hand, and when to back off and let you handle it.
I love you always, big three-year-old boy.
posted by Ridley at
10:53 AM
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