Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Sebastian, 3 years

He played in his room all day yesterday.  That isn’t something that happens.  Usually if he’s up there it’s only because I’m upstairs too.  I turned on the monitor just because I wanted to hear what he was doing.  It may be eavesdropping, but this was a new thing for us and I wanted to know how well he’d do with it.  He ‘choo-chooed’ along with the train set out on his floor, he sang ‘Bingo’ with his little radio.  He just played.  By himself.  Not attached to my hip.  

I want to stop him at this age.  He shocks me every day with a new aspect to his personality, new proof that he’s turning into a little boy. 

He goes outside by himself, just to ride his bike or ‘mow’ the grass with his little lawnmower.  He’s learning his letters, but still gets M and W mixed up.  He’s playing more with Adele, though isn’t happy when she grabs ahold of his hair or plays with a toy he wants.

He’s imaginative and silly.  He likes to pretend that he’s characters in TV shows.  At the moment he’s Baby Jaguar from Diego, though that could all change if something better comes along.  He stays in character for weeks, currently walking on all fours and wanting me to carry him by the back of the neck.  I can’t seem to make him understand that since he’s not actually a jaguar I can’t do that without inflicting damage that might get me arrested.

He loves music, though not as much as he used to.  He likes routine and structure, much like his mother.  He notices any changes we make to the house, such as new pictures we hang, wanting me to explain what they are and why they are there.  He’s feisty and will either laugh when he’s getting in trouble to try to make you laugh, too, or fake fall down to get you to love on him.

He doesn’t take a nap most of the time, mostly doing headstands and flips in his bed, but at least he stays there.  He loves water and loves to swim in his pool.  He refuses to wear shoes, even outside, unless I make him.  And even then he kicks them off eventually.

He drops toys in random places.  I find cars in the bathroom and blocks under my bed.  But he’s learning that we have to pick up after ourselves.

He always wants to help, and spent Saturday morning with me weeding our overgrown mess of a garden, saying just about every 15 seconds “We’re working, right?  We’re busy, right?  We don’t like these weeds, right?”

Right, baby.

He loves blueberries and rice and pasta and watermelon and cucumbers and peanut butter but isn’t too fond of cantaloupe anymore.

He talks so much, constantly commenting on everything that’s going on, which sometimes is difficult for me since I like to stay in my own head.  If I’m not giving him my undivided attention and he wants it he’ll do something he knows he’s not supposed to, then make sure I know he’s doing it, just so I’ll talk to him.

He’s started saying over and over again that he’s scared or that something will “make me scared!”  Last night eating his vegetables made him scared.  He had to eat them anyway.  Sometimes when he’s really upset and crying, he’ll need a cup of milk or a trip outside to “make me feel better!”  And then he’ll tell me “I’m happy now!  I feel better!”

He remembers everything and will know what's going to happen next in a book I've only read him once. 

I don’t remember the whole first year of his life.  It’s a blur of exhaustion and worry and love and discovery that I can’t seem to get back.  But I know the feeling of hope and adoration I felt when I first saw him.  And I know that he’s the one who made me a mother, who showed me that I have the strength to do this.

My first baby, my own little man.

Happy birthday Sebastian.  I love you.


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