Epistle ahead (don't say I didn't warn you)

Dear Liam,

It’s hard to believe that you are 3. Although I can only vaguely remember what life was like before we had kids, it does not seem like long ago that you were a tiny newborn. Yet I look at you today, and you are all skin, muscle and bone. Your face is chiseled, your legs are like toothpicks and there isn’t a speck of fat on you – a far cry from the Pork Chop nickname you earned when you were only one month old.

I compare you to Mallory a lot these days simply because I find it hard to believe the incredible difference that two years can make. Mallory has just learned her first word, but your speech is so good that we no longer need to dumb anything down when we talk to you. This is going to come back to bite us one day, I am sure, because we don’t censor anything we say in front of you, and one day I think you are going to spit out something personal and embarrassing, something we never expected you to understand or retain, in public! The leap from first word to fluency has surprised me in its speed.

A true preschooler now, you are fully comfortable with your body, but still frustrated by its limitations. You can run, jump, and climb on just about anything, but it maddens you when you can’t reach something up on the counter or if you are having trouble getting yourself dressed. You want to try these things on your own, and we are often barred from your bedroom even as you cry tears of frustration when you can’t get your shirt on over your head. You waver between wanting independence and wanting help from mom and dad. It’s help we’re definitely willing to give, if only you will take it.

You are a very un-picky eater and like just about everything, though of course if we call something a ‘treat’ your ears perk up! You decide on your own breakfast now, choosing what kind of juice to drink and selecting between cereal, toast and waffles (if we have leftovers from the weekend). You are starting to rummage through the fridge to look for snacks or to help get lunch started if I’m not getting on it as fast as you would like. You still love all kinds of sauces and dips for your food. You feel so proud and grown-up when you have a bottle of water, just like your dad.

About 6-8 months ago you learned how to work the DVD player, and you love your little collection of movies. In a typical preschooler rut, you would rather watch the same movie over and over again than see something new on TV. Luckily, though, the TV is far from your only interest. You still like to emulate real life – one of your favourite games is when I set up some of our pretend food in a ‘grocery store’ and then you gather it up with the shopping cart, check it out at the cash register, bag it in one of my reusable grocery bags and unpack it again in your toy kitchen before cooking something up and offering it to me for lunch. You still really like puzzles, and recently tackled your first 48-piecer. Your love of books (especially at bedtime) has held steady. But more than anything else, you still like to play outside, and hallelujah for the warm weather at last because as much as we’ve tried to get out this winter, it just doesn’t compare to being outside when it’s nice. You would rather pull your wagon around the block (oftentimes now with Mallory inside of it) than do just about anything else, and anytime you tire and slow down, and we offer to relieve you, your strength magically returns and you surge ahead.

When we are outside, you could entertain yourself for hours. You like sidewalk chalk and basketball and playing with your wagon and the ride-on toys. You like scanning the sky for vapour trails, identifying birds and spotting ant hills and worms. The flowers are poking up now, and you like to point out the latest bloomers. You like going for walks and can now cover quite a distance on your own two feet, though you are also very content to ride in the stroller when we need to cover ground a bit quicker.

Your pretend play has paved the way for you to do more real life tasks on your own. You get dressed by yourself… mostly. You brush your teeth on your own, with just a quick finishing up from one of us. You like to put your own dishes in the dishwasher and to help unload it when it’s clean. You help me put away clean laundry. You help load the cart at the grocery store, and unpack the food into the fridge and cupboards at home. The one area you don’t like to help with is picking up toys, and it’s still a mystery to me why you are so helpful in all other areas but when I ask you to pick up, you quickly tell me that you’ve moved onto something else and that you are busy. We’re working on it.

You are still an incredibly sensitive little boy, and so very well behaved. If someone speaks sharply to you (and this only ever happens if you are about to do something that could get you hurt), it’s enough for you to start bawling. Something as innocent as a “Look out, Liam!” when you get in the way of an oncoming cart at the grocery store will set you off. You are still too little to reason with, and we have a hard time explaining to you that we’re not mad at you – just acting in your best interest. I hope that lesson will be learned soon because it’s heartbreaking to cause you to get so upset.

This year, you grew into a wonderful big brother. You welcomed Mallory without any jealousy. You mostly ignored her when she was a newborn and not of much interest to you. But as her ability to keep up with you has improved, you have become good at including her and being kind to her – most of the time. You still don’t like it when she tries to join in and play with you uninvited, especially if she comes after pieces of a puzzle you are putting together, or blocks you are building with, or food you are cooking. But you point out to her when her favourite show is on TV, and you like to dance with her in her bedroom before bed, and you enjoy sharing the bathtub with her at the end of the day. You have helped to ease her transition to daycare and you report back to me what kind of day she has had each night.

You still catch your breath when you hear a siren, and speculate as to its origin: ambulance-police car-fire truck? You are starting to ask “Why?” an awful lot. You report on the number of school buses you see each morning. You come up with sayings that crack us up with their maturity. A little while ago, your dad said Winnie the Pooh was yellow, and you replied, “Actually, dad, Winnie the Pooh is orange.” And you said it with just enough authority and attitude that it was hysterical. Out of the blue, you will make statements about your cousin and your friends and events that took place several months ago, statements that still leave us surprised by what a good memory you have.

We threw your first ‘friend’ birthday party this year, and although you kept quiet through the whole thing, you clearly enjoyed being the centre of attention and having your friends there to play with you. You will never be Mr. Outgoing, but you can hold your own now. I no longer worry about you being the kid nobody wants to partner up with in gym class. Is that such a horrible thing to say? – I don’t mean to sound, well, mean, but to see you developing socially like this – well, it makes me very happy indeed.

The past few weeks since I have gone back to work have been somewhat unsettling. I sense a bit of detachment from you, which I think is an adjustment to us spending less time together. I can only hope that it passes quickly. You are more important to me than anything else, and my number one priority in life is to make sure that you know it. Even when your dad takes you through your nighttime routine and I am busy getting Mallory settled, you still refuse to go to bed until you’ve had some cuddle time with me, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me and what a great way to end the day it is. (Even when I suspect that you are just stalling for time. Stinker.)

Love,

Mom