He is three.
He is active
he is busy
he is non-stop action
he can’t sit still.
He makes me wonder what I did with my days before he blessed my life.
He is three,
he is imaginative
he is caring
he is kind
he is sweet with a gentle soul.
He understand emotions and will ask me, “mama, why are you frustrated?” That is when I realize how smart and observant he is. And how my easily-agitated demeanor may be harming him.
He is three.
He is bold
he is fearless
he is a wander and a dreamer.
I pray that his hopes and dreams will always stay big and magical.
He is three.
He is full of questions
he is full of wonder
he is full of love and innocence;
I want to hold onto it as long as possible, before the world gets a chance to tear it away from him.
He is three.
He is challenging
he is ornery
he is brave
he is stubborn and determined.
He wants to please the people he loves, he wants to please himself. He is determined to do something and to do it right. I pray his determination will take him far and help him succeed with whatever life throws at him.
He is three,
he tests my patience
he consumes me with questions
he needs my reassurance
he follows me anywhere
he will forever be my baby.
He is the little boy that first made me a mom. He once fit into the palm of my hand with sleep-hungry eyes staring back at me; with that gap-tooth grin and that silly laugh; that wobbly walk and those chubby cheeks. That is what I will think of when he’s taller than me and waving me off to be with his friends.
Forever my baby.
He is three,
until he is four,
then five, six, seven, and before I know it, ten.
So I will embrace the stubbornness,
answer those questions,
pray for more patience,
and take in all his love.
