Somehow it has been three years since you were born. Three years since your daddy came home from work with pizza and beer ready to watch football only to find me laying in bed thinking that I just might die. Who knew labor pains could be so painful!
At three years old not only are you as tall as four year olds, but you talk like one too. You are a constant crack up and at times a little embarrassing (can we please get over asking people if they have a tummy or breasts?) While you have never tasted one, you love beer and will try and order one whenever we go out to eat. This definitely makes me feel like a successful parent.
A good friend of ours once described his daughter as having strong desires, and you my friend definitely do as well. You know what you want, how you want it and when you want it. Please and thank you. I do believe this will make you a successful adult, but I do believe it will also make me fully grey by the time I'm 35.
You love to play trains, sing and do any kind of craft project and jump over and off anything you can find. This includes your sister. Yes, you not only repeatedly jump over Evie (thankfully you've cleared her head every time) but you are also tempted to leap off her as well.
Henry Denbrook James, as you call yourself, my life would not be as joyous or memorable without you in it. I love your spirited enthusiasm and zest for life and am blessed by you daily (minus those moments where you poo on the floor). Happy Birthday to you!
Aw, but a wee little babe. Four days old and I'm pretty sure our house was approximately 57 degrees.
Mmm, there's that sugar-less banana loaf cake I made you for your first birthday!
The big two year old. Look you finally have hair!
3 years old and eating birthday pancakes!