Pokey

My dearest Nate,

It’s so hard to believe that my darling baby boy turned 3 on Saturday… 3!  You really are such a big boy.

To celebrate, we took a ride on “Mama’s choo-choo,” also known as Caltrain.  The ride to Palo Alto for lunch and cupcakes made me view my daily commute with entirely new eyes.  If only I could muster that kind of excitement on a daily basis.  Our adventure on a rainy afternoon took most of the day, but you powered through.  At 4pm you finally fell asleep, face down, on the couch.  I was right beside you.

And to commemorate your birthday, I thought I’d try to capture this fleeting moment in time… a little bit of what you’re like at the ripe old age of 3.

You still wear your “black and blue one” Superman shirt daily.  And you couldn’t hide your disappointment that you didn’t get a new one on Saturday, even though you own seven.  You’re becoming a bit more fashion flexible, but generally prefer drawstring pants and are disdainful of all outerwear.  The characters on your pajamas must possess the ability to fly.  You like your new light-up Captain America shoes.  In contrast to your “good guy” exterior, paradoxically, you request “bad guy” underpants.

You’re a fan of chile and lemon pistachios and “skabetty”… that’s spaghetti.  You also love chockit, but unfortunately have started calling it chocolate.  Your favorite Girl Scout cookies are Samoas and you prefer red and green gummy bears.  You also like Mini Wheat “twins,” but ultimately, your favorite thing is to eat ketchup with your hands.

As of today, you weigh 36 pounds.  You’re a small brick wall and generally survive run-ins unscathed.  Other kids aren’t so lucky.  You can peddle your bike to the playground, but always have to be pushed home.  Daddy calls you Pokey.  I think you’ve earned it.

You travel with a large contingent of security personnel including Puppy-o, Doggie-o (or Super Puppy) and your new American Girl pet puppy, Meatloaf.  Yes, I bought you an American Girl pet.  It looks like it’s the only thing I’ll be buying at that little girl paradise of a shoppe.  You still love your baybit.

And you love to ‘nuggle.  You rub noses with me and say “You so cute and I so cute.”  You are an exceptional hugger and generous with your kisses.

You are also a lover of nature.  Last week, when faced with a mine field of worms on the rainy school sidewalk, you became visibly panicked about how to get across without killing anyone.  Every single dog we pass you audibly proclaim, “I want to buy dat dog fowr Cwismas.”

You are a natural reader of people.  You’re always asking “Why he goes like this with his face?”  When Jake is digging in his heels, you will run to his rescue with relevant advice, “Say sorry Jacob!”  You have known this since you were born.

You are smart.  In more ways than I can count.  You know colors and numbers and shapes and everything your brother knows.  You are brimming with questions and surprises.

And you still love music.  When you hear the Frozen song, Let It Go, you just can’t help but dance.  You also have an unwavering proclivity for potty talk.

Plus, you are so unbelievably adorable that I would not be the least bit surprised if one day we went to preschool to pick you up and they handed us over a dirty, navy blue Superman shirt, some sweatpants, and light-up shoes.  “Our apologies.  He was so cute, we just had to eat him up.  This is all that’s left.”  I wouldn’t blame them one bit.

I love you, Nathaniel James.  I love every single thing about you.  Happy birthday big boy.

xoxo,

Mama

The last time Nate was 3… months.