Life @ 3

You finally went in for your scheduled three-year well child visit. Your popular pediatrician was 10 weeks out when I called! You were lucky enough to not have to visit the clinic too often in the last 12 months, and you hadn't seen Dr. H since your two-year. You happily climbed in the car when I told you where we were headed; and you asked if you had to get any shots and I mistakenly told you no.

Oh, the Mama guilt.

You sailed through your appointment. We discussed your habits, and you shyly answered a few questions about you: are you a boy or a girl? Where's your knee? Can you stand on one foot? Do you know where you live? It's amazing what you've acquired and developed in the past 12 months. We participated in a seeing and hearing screening ... that was a riot. You did smashing with the beep-beep-beeeeeeeeep hearing test, but the vision was another story. You had to identify specific shapes on each sized line. The aide pointed to the heart. You told her it was a valentine. She pointed to the house and you told her it was a barn. I couldn't hide my laughter- you've always been a contrite, little spitfire. I am so proud of your individuality!



You weigh 32 pounds.
You are 39 inches tall
You wear a 4T in shirts.
A 3T in pants.
You are tall and thin.
You wear a size 8 shoe.
You must know 1,000 words.
You know all your colors.
Your memory is iron-clad.
You drink 1% milk, and suddenly, a lot of it.
You don't love brushing your teeth.
But you love baths.
You hate sticky, dirty hands.
You prefer wearing just a t-shirt.
And no socks.
You don't care for soda, jam, jelly, or chocolate milk.
You confuse sour with spicy.
You love daycare and routine.
You request someone play with you most the time.
You still get rocked when we read bedtime stories.
You go to bed at 8pm nightly.
Monday through Friday, you're up by 7:15.
And, begrudgingly.
You sleep until 9am or later on the weekends.
You like staying home like your Dad does.
You eat like a bird.
I try not to let it make me crazy.
We still encourage you to be self-sufficient with life's dailies.
But old habits die hard.
For three years I've dressed you.
And wiped your butt.
And trailed behind you picking up your stuff.
I like doing things for you.
But, I am trying not to so much.
You're very sensitive.
And beginning to show your flair for the dramatic.
You tell me to talk nice when I scold you.
You keep me on my toes.
You do things at your own pace.
Once, it took you 30 minutes to eat three separate cheese tortellinis.
30.
You love music by Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Sugarland, Beyonce, and Glee cast members.
You want your hair blow-dryed before you go to bed.
You don't like it when I tuck it behind your ears.
Constantly.
Your favorite cartoon is still Scooby Doo.
You sleep with NaNa, Curious George, GloWorm, brown bear, and lil' Beagle still. You have since you were six months old.
You went to the dentist already and did just fine.
You don't like playing outside when it's cold.
You told me yesterday, unprompted, that Kevin Love was on the bench when I asked where he was.
On. The. Bench.
You've already made your birthday and Christmas lists.
You think naked is the funniest word in the universe.
You ask about all of your grandparents daily.
You had your first friend sleepover.
You slept in.
Your favorite color is pink.
You're my favorite, favorite.