My oldest child turned three on Monday--an age I always associated with being a "kid" instead of a baby or a toddler. Can it be that I have a kid now instead of a baby and a toddler?
I went back and read my posts on this blog from last May and I remember those days so clearly; it's nearly impossible to believe that an entire year has gone by. And yet, in the space of that year, Luke has had such very important transitions in his life--from being the only child to a big brother, from living in an apartment to a house, from having his best friend with him all day, every day to seeing him for a few hours a couple of times a week. And yet, with all the changes over the past year, he has continued to be such a sweet and joyful soul.
Now, I'm not going to lie and say that the past year was all sunshine and roses. For so long, Luke was so easy that when he reached his first boundary testing stage about six months ago, it threw me for a huge loop. There were tears--his and mine. There was bad behavior on both our parts. There were days, weeks, when I watched him have multiple tantrums a day and wondered who this unfamiliar person was and why he looked so much like--and yet, acted completely different from--the child I had known for two-and-a-half years.
But then, the miracle of three happened. I know we're only a couple of days into it, but really, for the past month or so, he has been slowly transitioning to three-ness. He has had fewer tantrums, and the ones he does have are usually traceable to hunger, tiredness, or a lack of exercise. He's better able to verbalize his plans--first I'll do this, then you do this, then I want to do this--and more willing to accept reasonable explanations about why parts of those plans might not work. Of course, we still get a whole lot of, "But I waaaaaannnnt to," when we tell him he can't do something, but most of the time, a reminder to speak nicely and an acknowledgement that yes, it's hard to be patient suffices to mollify him.
He has taken so well to being a big brother this past year. Even though I sometimes feel bad about the decrease in parental time, energy, and attention, I think that he sees his baby brother as the very best thing ever. At least once a day--and often, more frequently--he says to me, "I like this baby. We should keep this baby." A couple of weeks ago, when I told him that I loved him, he replied, "When I were a baby, I loved you, but now, I love my baby brother the most."
He's a pretty physical kid, in that he likes to run and wrestle and run some more. The best tactic to keep him calm is to make sure we're getting plenty of outside time, so we frequent parks and playgrounds, take walks and bike rides around the neighborhood, pull the cushions off the couch and jump on them. When we forget to do these things, even for a day or two, the result is that he tackles his friends and sits on his brother and chases the cats, who then complain loudly about the inhumane (infeline?) treatment.
Even as I look back and wonder about how quickly his infancy and toddlerhood have passed, I am excited about the big kid he's turning into--the kid who loves to explore and who looks forward to every outing with his friends; the kid who is learning to be more independent, even as he still asks to be carried or to sit on our laps while reading. He is such a combination of baby and big kid, all rolled up in a ball of energy and I am very much looking forward to watching him be Three.
I went back and read my posts on this blog from last May and I remember those days so clearly; it's nearly impossible to believe that an entire year has gone by. And yet, in the space of that year, Luke has had such very important transitions in his life--from being the only child to a big brother, from living in an apartment to a house, from having his best friend with him all day, every day to seeing him for a few hours a couple of times a week. And yet, with all the changes over the past year, he has continued to be such a sweet and joyful soul.
Now, I'm not going to lie and say that the past year was all sunshine and roses. For so long, Luke was so easy that when he reached his first boundary testing stage about six months ago, it threw me for a huge loop. There were tears--his and mine. There was bad behavior on both our parts. There were days, weeks, when I watched him have multiple tantrums a day and wondered who this unfamiliar person was and why he looked so much like--and yet, acted completely different from--the child I had known for two-and-a-half years.
But then, the miracle of three happened. I know we're only a couple of days into it, but really, for the past month or so, he has been slowly transitioning to three-ness. He has had fewer tantrums, and the ones he does have are usually traceable to hunger, tiredness, or a lack of exercise. He's better able to verbalize his plans--first I'll do this, then you do this, then I want to do this--and more willing to accept reasonable explanations about why parts of those plans might not work. Of course, we still get a whole lot of, "But I waaaaaannnnt to," when we tell him he can't do something, but most of the time, a reminder to speak nicely and an acknowledgement that yes, it's hard to be patient suffices to mollify him.
He has taken so well to being a big brother this past year. Even though I sometimes feel bad about the decrease in parental time, energy, and attention, I think that he sees his baby brother as the very best thing ever. At least once a day--and often, more frequently--he says to me, "I like this baby. We should keep this baby." A couple of weeks ago, when I told him that I loved him, he replied, "When I were a baby, I loved you, but now, I love my baby brother the most."
He's a pretty physical kid, in that he likes to run and wrestle and run some more. The best tactic to keep him calm is to make sure we're getting plenty of outside time, so we frequent parks and playgrounds, take walks and bike rides around the neighborhood, pull the cushions off the couch and jump on them. When we forget to do these things, even for a day or two, the result is that he tackles his friends and sits on his brother and chases the cats, who then complain loudly about the inhumane (infeline?) treatment.
Even as I look back and wonder about how quickly his infancy and toddlerhood have passed, I am excited about the big kid he's turning into--the kid who loves to explore and who looks forward to every outing with his friends; the kid who is learning to be more independent, even as he still asks to be carried or to sit on our laps while reading. He is such a combination of baby and big kid, all rolled up in a ball of energy and I am very much looking forward to watching him be Three.
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