Monday, October 4, 2010

Luke is THREE!

Three. Lukey-Pookers, aka The Interloper, aka Menace aka three. How'd that happen?

Not so-little boy, I love you so much. In fact, every day it seems, I love you more. Your cheeky grin, your morning cuddles, your daily search for Matthew...all of this and so much more endear me to you.

I love that you are entirely your own person and that frankly, you don't give two HOOTS what anybody else thinks about ANYthing. You are Luke and you will stand your stubborn, determined, pigheaded ground.

Dang it!

You crack me up, Luke. I love that you use words as though you were born talking and that some of our most intense conversations take place while I'm changing your diaper. I love that you want to hold my hand while we're walking and that you can balance along pretty much anything along the way.

I love how giddy you get when I say that it's time to get Matthew and how you have to match your socks to your shirt and how your baseball cap is more necessary than pants, in your world.

I love your fire, your fierce temper and your need to put shoes in the shoe box and hats on the hook.

I love how you run for Nanny and Papa and have no fear of animals, insects or crickets. I love you in footy-pyjamas and clothes you've picked out yourself. I love that you sing along to every song but seem to like the softer ones best. I love that, intentionally or not, you and Matthew often sing in harmony.

 It makes me laugh that after a rainstorm, your most fervent wish is to drink from the mud puddles at the bottom of the driveway and yet you cannot stand it if your hands are dirty.

Sometimes you are grouchy. A right curmudgeon in a toddler's body. Given to foul moods and abject rudeness. But then suddenly, you smile and it's like the sun coming out on a bleak winter's day and all is forgiven. Forgotten. Someday you will rule the world with that cheeky grin, my boy. Likely, someday soon.

Thank you for asking me to dance for no reason, for eating practically everything I cook and for wiping away MY tears when I cried over Uncle Andrew. Thank you for playing close by so that you "can touch you sometimes, Mummy," and for faithfully wishing me sweet dreams.  Thank you for sleeping through the night and knowing EXACTLY where I put my keys.

Thank you, my prince of Edward County, for being so many things I long to be - fiercely independent and completely unmoved by sarcasm, guilt or cajoling. I LOVE that you stand your ground so calmly and without questioning yourself. I wish I could be more like you, son.

I love your inquisitiveness, your surefooted-ness, your expansive hugs and exuberant kisses. I love that while it may take you awhile to warm up to people or a situation, once you do, you're in with you whole gorgeous self.

For all of this, for every part of you, I am grateful. Thank you for choosing me to be your Mummy, Luke. I am blessed, so blessed because of you:

Your brother may have made me a Mummy, but you, my very soul, have made me complete.

Happy Birthday, Luke.

I love you.


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