Dear Noah,

On Tuesday, your turned 36-months-old.  I cannot believe you are three.  Time has gone so fast.  I remember so vividly meeting you for the first time.  When you were so small and sick.  We were so worried that you would not recover.  But you did and I believe it was finally meeting your mommy and daddy that pushed you to make such a speedy recovery.  You’ve barely been sick a day since–we won’t count the plane ride from Orlando when you puked all over me. 

Your vocabulary has continued to explode–in part thanks needs to be paid to Pinky Dinky Doo.  You now talk about things being unusual, about being flabbergasted and frustrated.  You collaborate with me when we make breakfast.  While I like to take some of the credit for your articulation and verbosity–I can’t take it all.  I do owe some of the credit to Dora, The Backyardigans, and Pinky.  Sorry Max and Ruby no thanks to you with Max’s one word conversation ability.  Nick–not all kids speak in only one word. 

You’ve hit a new developmental phase.  You cry when I leave the house (not all the time–but more often than not)–whether you’re at home with your dad or we are at the gym.  Thankfully you don’t cry at school and that’s nice. 

You are still fascinated with Cars and Kung-Fu Panda which reminds me that I need to look into Karate classes for you.  You act out the movies with the characters and it’s pretty cute.  You also much to your straight uncles chagrin love the Care Bears.  You have the action figures–you picked those out at your birthday party with all the tickets your uncle won for you.  He insisted that you get something cool and you insisted that Care Bears were cool.  I had to laugh.  Already standing up for yourself and what you like.  That will do well for you as you grow old. 

We mailed in your school acceptance letter with the deposit.  I am excited and happy but also have four words for you before you can start school–Must. Be. Completely.  Potty-trained.  You are fighting it–part of it is you just have so much going on.  I have bitten the bullet and put you in big boy underwear at home–I have to clean up some pee but you are getting to understand the whole potty thing.  Because in a diaper you don’t really get why you need to use the potty.

There is so much more I could say, but I don’t want to go on and on.  You are an amazing little boy (even though nearly 50% of people who meet you think you are a girl).  Your smile lights up the room and your laugh and spirit influences others in ways I am surprised by.  I am so proud to be your mother and so very lucky to know you. 

Love you,

Mommy