My darling BooBaaa turned three this week. Yes, three. Years! I find it so hard to believe ...
. . . . You can call me Robot BooBaaa.
I feel like it wasn't so long ago I was being rushed down the hallway into theatre because he balked at joining us in the world. Only to have him change his mind once we got there and decide to come out without the need for surgery after all. (Thank you, sweet boy!) And once he was out, it's hard to believe he balked, because he hasn't looked back. It's been full steam ahead ever since, and then some. Walking at nine months; running at nine and a half; scootering easily by two years; biking a few months into two; swimming after his big brother; and always, always running around playing imaginary games with his brother ... he's a high energy bundle of sheer physicality.
And yet he's still my quiet cuddler, too. He loves to sit in my lap and read a good book. Or two. Or three. Or have you watch him do his floor puzzles. Or sneak back down the stairs after bedtime just to give everyone another roung of hugs and kisses on the nose. He's lovely and generous with his kisses, and his baby sister adores him
I don't worry about BooBaaa the way I sometimes worry about Ramekin and his need for approval. BooBaaa knows who he is and is happy just 'being' BooBaaa. He's confident and cheeky, cocky even, yet friendly and sociable at the same time. He's well liked at his nursery and is clearly thriving having been thrown in with the older kids at barely two and a half. He likes to do things for himself. He's not bothered by what all the other children his age are doing. In fact, he's not-so-secretly convinced that he's older than he is and demands to be treated accordingly. He doesn't care what people think when he goes against the norm and just goes about his BooBaaa business. And he knows how to be loud if he thinks that he's not getting his share of something, be it time and attention or toys. BooBaaa will never, ever be the overlooked, forgotten middle child. These qualities will probably serve him well in life, making peer pressure a lesser concern yet driving his future teachers slightly insane at the same time.
While I can't wait to see what three brings over the next year, I can't help but feeling it's going by too fast. He was just introduced on these pages within hours of his arrival ... and blink ... now he's three.
I don't think there's any chance of slowing it all down, though, my oversized lovely boy of three.
. . . . My motto: walk loudly and carry a big stick.