While I have tried to remain in denial about The Boy's third birthday, it's impossible. Sometimes the only thing we can be sure of in this life is that time will pass, and our babies will turn into children and people in their own right.
I am inordinately proud of my little boy: he is a friendly and happy little boy who wants to chat to everyone, he loves playing with his friends and family, loves making craft items and baking, is never happier than when he's building a sandcastle or jumping up and down in muddly puddles. This little individual being is kind and considerate, loving and caring, quiet and cheeky. He's not a boisterous boy, he's not a rough and tumble, fighting and climbing boy, but he is curious and insightful, wanting to learn about the world around him in a cautious but determined manner.
He says 'gyurls' for girls and 'wyurld' for world, and 'you were being confused'. He has a beautiful singing voice and makes songs up, mixing together theme tunes deliberately. When 'groovy moves' or 'I am a shape' come on the television, he insists that I stop what I'm doing and go and dance straight away; he never stands still for 'freeze' but checks everyone else is.
He insists on doing stand-up wees and refuses to let daddy help him, apart from to pass him a piece of tissue. He hates sitting in his booster chair seat, declaring he 'wants to be a big boy' but wants to be carried like a baby out of the bathroom wrapped in his towel while daddy sings 'rock a bye baby'.
Every morning since he could walk, he rushes in to wake me up and feeling him in my arms first thing every morning is the most amazing, awe-inspiring, serene and natural thing in the entire world.
Happy birthday my darling, precious boy.