My blog post title today comes from a poem about little boys, and pretty much sums up the pest perfectly. He is equal parts naughty and nice, sugar and spice, and that's just the way we like him.
I'm talking about Jack because today is his third birthday. There's something about that age, three. It's like you cross a magical threshold into big-boyhood. All little kids who turn three say they're now a big boy or girl, and yes, that's what Jack's telling anyone who'll listen at the moment. "I'm fwee. I'm a big boy now. I do poos in the toilet." Because when you're three, your biggest accomplishment probably IS doing a poo in the toilet. (Well done kid. Happy to see that life skill can finally be crossed off the list.)
Poo jokes aside, I'm astonished at how much he's changed this year. His talking was always good, but even I look up in surprise sometimes at the sentences that come out his mouth. I know I'm bias, but there's no denying it - the kid's smart. (What's that? He takes after me? Well. I didn't want to say anything...) His memory is second to none, he says words that I'm sure he's never heard before, and he is endearingly funny without knowing it. If you've had a bad day, go and spend an hour with Jack. I promise you'll be in stitches by the end - and you'll feel about a billion times better. Yep - Jack is my bad-day remedy, my go-to guy when things get a bit tough. He's pretty awesome like that.
Of course, the split personality of a two year old has meant that this has also been the year of the tantrum. So actually, you should call before you visit. Cause if the kid's in a bad mood, you may as well just stay home. I've seen some spectacular fits of hysteria in the last few months. If he hasn't slept and he's in a bad mood, it's a sight to behold. I should start selling tickets. It's the staying-power of the tears that never ceases to amaze me - there's actually no break in crying for like 30 minutes at a time. HOW is this possible?? More importantly, WHY is this possible?? Unlike the tickle me elmo, there seems to be no 'off' button - so when the tantrum cyclone hits, i tend to just run for the door. Somewhere else to be and all that.
The last 12 months have also revealed some of Jack's more specialised talents. Like singing. The kid loves to sing. Put him in front of a microphone (and trust me, we have), and its like he BECOMES a rock star. The creative genius simply cannot be contained. His favourite song right now is the Glee mash up of Confessions/It's My Life. I specifically mention the Glee thing because we HAVE in fact tried to play him the original Bon Jovi version of It's My Life, and he hates it. Can't stand to have it on for more than three seconds. After that, he claims his ears hurt, and we have to turn it off. This leads me to Jack's second specialised talent: lying.
The lies roll off his tongue like rain off a ducks back. Maria tries to tell us that lying is a sign of intelligence, a fact i believe I've mentioned here before. But lets not delude ourselves. Lying just means he's figured out how to get away with stuff. It's going to become a very useful tool at pre-school. I'm almost proud when i think of all the ways he's gonna dupe those other stupid kids *sniggers* Anyway, he's a liar, and Ive spend long minutes listening to stories about non-existent needles that non-existent ant doctors have given him, or about the dinner he supposedly ate. Or being told that he did not in fact make that mess, it was the other kid, whatshisname, he's the one who did it. When challenged, i actually heard him say in an agonised tone, "I told him not to do it." WHAT??? I had to laugh.
As i mentioned before - it's been a year of developing life skills. Pooing in the toilet was just one of several. My particular favourite? Negotiation. The kid should be working for the CIA. He'll negotiate the chocolate right out of your hand if your not careful. Before you know it, you're nodding your head saying "Mmm, yes, you want to watch Tom and Jerry another 50 times before bed...that sounds fair..." Like all the great orators in our family (me, Maria...me...), he can talk his way through and out of anything. It's not all roses though. There are some concepts he can't quite grasp. Like sharing. Or saying sorry. Or eating a full meal. There's plenty of room for improvement. Its lucky he's pretty sweet most of the time, so we can overlook these minor shortcomings...(that means we're turning a total blind eye).
Here's the part where i reflect: i can't believe the kids already three. I wish that time and age were slower, so he could stay little forever. Its sort of sad and not sad at the same time to see the baby disappear and the little boy emerge. Of course, our understanding of the time means we know that he's not going to stay a little boy forever either - one day he'll be a teenager (ugh), and then an adult. Which means, we better enjoy this while we can.
Happy birthday my boy. It's been fun terrorising you the last three years - don't think that'll stop any time soon. I love you xxx
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