three

Three. I feel like not so long ago I wrote this post, yet here we are already two weeks into Matty being three. The other night, as he lay on my chest and fell asleep, I reminisced the newborn days and realized that my baby has graduated to a boy. I have been resisting it for awhile, but three just seems so undeniably big. I mean, even though two was difficult to digest, at least you can cling to babyish things. For example, clothing that is labeled 24 months. And diapers. As much as I hate changing diapers, their presence = baby. Unfortunately, I have yet to find any tags out there with 36 months on them and Matty continues to trade his diapers for pull ups and underwear, so  somewhat reluctantly, I acknowledge that he has sprouted into boy. A smart, caring, loving, stubborn tornado of a boy that can simultaneously make me cry and smile. Who frustrates and motivates. Who challenges and comforts. Who can make me question my sanity, yet brings me peace.

Last year, we put a two on the back of a tshirt and he wore it at his party. Hubs made another one with a three on it to celebrate this year. I think it will be a tradition. I wonder how old he will be when he refuses to wear a shirt with an iron on announcing his new age...