three years

Dear Matthew,

Today you are three whole years old. Happy birthday!

You're such a mature little guy. As the youngest in our family you've absorbed so much and it shows: your vocabulary is huge, your confidence is hardly lacking, and your desire to be self-sufficient is incredibly fierce. Combine all of that with your physical stature, and people often mistake you for a four-year old. I loved the reactions I received this summer when (at 47lbs.) I announced you were only two - shock and awe. When engaged in conversation recently, you excitedly shared that you were now "big" and that you would be going to preschool.
























All of your so-called maturity is most evident in your desire to be independent. Keeping up with Morgan and Andrew is of utmost importance, and when you're left behind, your heart breaks into a million pieces.

There are other things, too: You want to make your own toast, spread the peanut butter, roll out the pizza dough, brush your own teeth, open doors for yourself, almost everything. For some reason, though, we can't get you to take full responsibility in the bathroom. Despite being potty-trained since Christmas, pulling your pants up and down is like asking you to stop watching Thomas the Train. I've mentioned that this is a requirement for preschool in two weeks (remember, the place you are eagerly anticipating), and your rebuttal is a simple: "I don't want to go to preschool" and with a shrug of your shoulders, life goes on. When push comes to shove, I know you'll man up. Just not right now for me or Daddy.

This selective need for independence also makes it challenging to parent you. I am constantly mothering with two choices: Would you like to walk to bed or be carried? Do you want to sit or stand at the potty? Are you going to hold my hand or shall I pick you up? I'm not sure how long I'll be able to trick you into obeying me, but for now it works.

Much to my dismay, you stopped napping this summer. You're entirely too young to go without all that sleep, but staying up hours past your bedtime to fight us about not being tired just wasn't going to fly anymore. Not to mention it was a total encroachment on the time Daddy and I have together in the evenings. The transition was tough at first - napping in the car, on the couch, on the floor, struggling to keep eyes open in the late afternoon. We now work extra hard to keep you awake through dinner so just before 7:00 you're going down easy. Those 11-12 hours of sleep still happen, it just looks different than what your brother and sister did.

Asleep on the bedroom floor after a baby gate showdown.

And I wouldn't expect anything less. Matthew, you are an entirely different kid. You march to the beat of your own drum, blaze your own trails, fearlessly proceed into the world. Your bold and daring attitude is refreshing, and yet it does have it's pitfalls. It's been very clear this last year that you don't comprehend your own strength or the affects of your actions. You pushed through the glass of our living room table, smashed Morgan's sentimental piggy bank, and snapped two DVDs right out of their cases. It's incredibly difficult not to be frustrated with you during these times, but seeing my response along with Morgan's tears helped you grasp the seriousness of your actions.

As the baby of our family, you love to be the show stopper. A laugh from someone during your shenanigans only reinforces your behavior. Eventually you'll learn that folks don't find your body noises and - I'll be honest - obnoxiousness funny. Unfortunately, you won't be able to sail through life on charm alone.
























While those center-stage displays are deliberate and exasperating, it's your unintentional moments that are truly the most hilarious. Your face is so expressive when you speak. It's the combination of your lively tone and diction with raised brows or eye rolls or tilted head that make Daddy and I stifle our giggles. Most times you even refer to your father and I as "Dad" and "Mom", and to be honest, coming from a toddler (gosh, or maybe a preschooler?) like you, it sounds strange when you omit the ending that usually makes a two-syllable version of our names.



































Music is something you enjoy, specifically singing in the car, demanding TobyMac (or VeggieTales or Owl City) as you ride along, using the microphone we have at home, or even the acoustics in the Meijer vestibule to hear your own echo. For a better part of this year, you requested "Joy To The World" at bedtime. Lately, you've altered the lyrics of traditional tunes to fit the first words that come to your mind. I can't wait to see how you'll perform with your Kindergarten class in a couple years during the school Christmas program.

Reading is also a love of yours. On your current list of favorites? Anything to do with trains or rhyming, the "Llama, Llama" series, and (coincidentally? I think not...) the "No, David!" books. Thomas the Train is still a favorite, but not exclusively. Our weekly trips to the library are highlights for you.























Typically your play depends on which sibling you're interacting with. Hanging with Andrew, it's driving vehicles and riding bikes. You both thrive on competition and Andrew enjoys his chance to practice leadership. But when Morgan comes along, there's lots of pretend play. She becomes the director of the fun and makes a sweet effort to appeal to your level of enjoyment.






































You like puzzles and coloring, Play Doh and paint, cutting with scissors, anything crafty; riding bikes, chalking the driveway and blowing bubbles. In June, we took swimming lessons together and you screamed. Just three weeks ago you were jumping into a friend's pool. It's been fun to watch you grow and change.





































Your past year was much different than those previous. You're older and more capable, and that opened up opportunities for you to participate in things you hadn't before. It's true that you did more strawberry eating than picking, that on our Virginia roadtrip you rocked the roadside pitstop, and that you wandered on our camping adventure more than most. But those things would not have happened - and did not happen - until now. Whether you like it or not, you're now along for the ride in ways you've never been before, Matthew. Hold on.

While you and I spend a lot of time together, Matthew, I feel confident in saying you most adore your time with Daddy. You two are pals from the potty to the playground. It may have started by accident - Daddy giving me a break - but it has turned into a deep love and understanding between the two of you. He always makes the dailies delightful. Brushing your teeth and washing your hands has never been so fun.

So here we go, off into another year of you, starting preschool, learning new skills, spending some time together alone, watching you sprout up into just the kid that God created you to be. Will you always do life big? I hope so, Matthew. I hope you make big impressions, spearhead big tasks, and share Jesus in big ways. I read somewhere that doing life big doesn't mean mean moving, but rather thriving where you're planted. I have no doubt this is you, Matthew. You were meant to bear fruit. You were meant for greatness.

I love you to pieces,
Mom

But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. Jeremiah 17:7-8