Today, Max Benjamin, you are turning three.
My little man, how much you’ve grown. Sometimes, I still can’t believe you’re here. I always pictured your Daddy and I having two little girls, and when Hannah arrived, I thought we were halfway there. Then there was the baby who didn’t come, who I lost 11 months before you arrived. Without that loss, there would have been no you. It’s a thought I can’t bear now.
I’ve often told the story of how I worried you’d never get a chance to speak given how verbal your sister is; I thought she’d do all the talking for you both. I never imagined that you would just speak at the same time, and usually louder, just to make sure you’re heard. I often struggle with this, feeling pulled in too many directions, straining to turn down the volume of the radio just to be able to hear and answer everything. I think you have made me a better listener.
This has been a tough year for us. You had pneumonia and struggled to breathe. Mommy had her “boo boo legs” and couldn’t do very much for you. A two year old shouldn’t have to fend so much for himself, but you did. You’ve learned (for the most part) that Mommy shouldn’t do uppies, and you mastered the staircase in our house since there wasn’t always someone there to hold your hand. You had a rough summer moving to a new classroom after bonding with your beloved accordion-playing teacher. You haven't been too keen on the whole potty thing, though you're starting to change your tune on that.
But it’s also been an amazing year. We took you to several concerts since you love music so much. You rode Thomas the Train. You love being a part of the Room E Elephants. You wore your first (clip-on) tie. You loved Niagara Falls, staying in the hotel and seeing the fireworks. You worried who would clean up “the smoke” after your first airshow. You squealed sharing a back seat and stroller with your cousin. You told me about “dubar enzo” and “ani mohshee” (whatever those are). Your favorite shows were Super Why and Yo Gabba Gabba. You carry blanket, guitar, and as much other stuff as you can, all at once. You sing beautifully, and you did your first, of what I’m sure will be many, concerts. Your sister is your very best friend.
You like to be reassured that you are my baby, and I promise that you always will be, but I’m so excited to watch you grow. We have so many adventures ahead, and I will do my best to slow down and try to see them through your eyes. I can’t wait to see you find the moon in Paris and watch you walk down the aisle as ring bearer at Uncle Ryan’s wedding, and to experience many more big and small moments together.