Yesterday Sam turned three years old. I’ve been thinking all week about writing this post. Usually I have lots to say when my kids turn a year older, because something significant has happened, or they’ve just turned into the devil’s spawn. Or something. But I have nothing, and I don’t think it’s because Sam in un-interesting. He’s just been same ol’ same ol’. So like, I have nothing new to bitch about.
I can see a shift in him, even in his same ol’-ness. The evolution from two to three is quite significant, and you can see why the tantrums happen when they’re two, when their little minds are coming to grips with so many huge leaps. At two, they’re still babies in a way, babies who can walk and talk and scream but really, they don’t know what’s going on. They don’t understand stuff. They can’t make sense of things. They can’t rationalise. Not that three year olds can rationalise, but they understand a little more, and when you’ve been through a whole year of complete irrationality, that little glimpse of hope is all you need to realise that your monster is actually growing up into a proper little human being.
As each year passes, as a parent you get so amazed at the personality that blossoms from your child. And I suppose this never ceases, year after year. After three years, it’s been such a joy to see Sam becoming who he is, and I am so damn proud of him. He is the kindest little boy, the gentlest, so quiet and and though he cries a heck of a lot, he actually listens to me (most of the time), unlike other little people who live in this house.
At day care, even other kids are aware of this – they know he shares, they know he plays well. I mean, for other toddlers to notice this, it’s got to be a thing right? And sure, he probably has to work on being not so nice (read: possibly being pushed around as he gets older) but I am just proud that he’s one of the nice ones. One of the good kids. Not one of the little pushy snots I secretly want to trip over at the playground.
He’s not an overly physical kid but he loves role playing. He can be an excavator for dayssssss, digging imaginary dirt, dumping it into the imaginary dump truck and hauling it to the imaginary tip. He also loves to sing and dance and cook, and he really loves to clean (pretend vacuuming is all the rage at the moment).
Anyway for his birthday, we had a little construction themed party. He loved the theme, and even though I’m actually terribly uncreative, I think I did ok with this one!
