My sunshine boy turned three on Friday.

This picture captures him perfectly–his gleeful grin, his giddy excitement, his sweet nature.  He is a social little being, friendly and affectionate and giving.  He has a tender heart and inherited his mama’s vivid imagination: he listens to books in open-mouthed, breathless awe and is reduced to helpless terror by unaccountable things like Zurg and tv commercials featuring any kind of robot.

This week we  had a special late-evening Mama & son date night to have our hair cut.  He wailed when we put him on the chair; then my friend (and fabulous hairdresser)  handed him a calculator and he suddenly became perfectly absorbed and content.  It had buttons.

While I was having my hair done, he scampered around behind the chair, exclaiming, “This is great!  Wow, this is so great!”  When we asked him what was so great, he replied, “The fwoor!”

“You like the floor?”

“Yes!  Yes!  I do!”

He’s like that.  He lives with gusto.

 

Watching B frolicking and laughing on our summer vacation this year, I thought often of our first trip to Door County, three years before.  I was just out of my first trimester, and there, hours from the nearest (tiny) hospital, we had a serious scare.  There were several nights of late cell phone calls to my doctor, as I scrambled to find a corner of the house with passable reception.  They could give me no assurances–and no instructions except to rest, and to go to the hospital if things got worse.  Those were long nights.  Our friends prayed with us, and J prayed as we went to bed, and then I lay awake in the dark room, pleading with God for my baby.    That is a prayer he answered: everything returned to normal and B was born January 7th, a solid 9 lb, 3 oz bundle with lovely full lips and chubby cheeks.  His middle name means “asked of God.”  Every time I think of that, I remember those dark nights, and the prayer that God didn’t have to answer–but he did.  This enthusiastic little person is the child we specifically asked the Lord for:

He is the companionable kind of boy who wants to sit on the bench next to you when you are eating chocolate chip cookies and drinking coconut milk together; who walks around with a teddy bear tucked under his arm; who lights up when you offer to sit on the couch with him and read a book– especially if that book can be sung (a current favorite is Always Room for One More, which includes a tune for singing the old Scottish tale); who always wants to make sure that Mama will come and say goodnight to him after he is in bed; who runs through the house calling for his sister and brother when he hasn’t seen them for a few minutes.

He is the kind of Daddy’s boy who always asks about his Daddy first thing in the morning: “Is Daddy home?” he whispers.  “Daddy’s at wowk today?”

And he is the exuberant kind of boy any guy would love to have for a brother.

They love each other’s games, they get each other’s jokes, and they have each other’s backs.  Well, sometimes.

You check on the pursuit, bro.  I’ve got this.

 

Happy 3rd birthday, sweet B-man.  We are filled with joy that you are part of our family.

 

*p.s. the book is Hop on Pop.  It’s a really wonky Dr. Seuss, but it’s just the kind of goofy thing B loves!

 

*the top picture is by the talented Misha. Isn’t she good?


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