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Thursday, October 20

Free!

It's official.

He's 3, I mean Free!

(Looking back at older posts, I noticed I keep mentioning "It's official" when referring to my children turning older.  Like in my mind it really hasn't happened, but according to the calendar, it really is happening.  The numbers are there to stamp it "official" for my in-denial brain.)

And so far it looks like he's trying to kick the "terrible"-wasn't-a-harsh-enough-adjective "2s" to the curb.

He's finally settled into being the "oldest" for a majority of the day.  And he's embracing it.  Awesome play time with mom.  Uninterrupted talk time about anything HE wants to talk about.  Talking sweet to his little brother.  Caressing his head ever so gently.  Bringing him the coveted Monster Trucks to play with (under one condition: "Doan put dem in your mouf, bay bruder").  Special trips to survey construction equipment, go to the playground or even pick out his own books at the library.

No more slamming doors when he first wakes up to yell, "WHERE'S DADA!"  He quietly comes inside our bedroom, carrying at least 3 blankies, and attempts scaling the bed with them in arm.  I kiss him on the forehead and say, "Good morning, big man"  and he replies, "G'mornin Mama."  Makes my heart melt just typing it.

He's turned into quite the Little Man.  He is fascinated with the concept of going to work, what you do at work, who goes to work, etc.  I'm still trying to convince him that girls and mommies go to work.  That one is usually met with a resounding, "No they don't!  That's silly!"  He will ask his daddy every day when he gets home from work, "Dad, what'd you dwive today?"  And Daddy will excitedly list off all the equipment he drove: front end loader, tractor, golf cart, pick up truck, forklift, combine, skid steer....  Something about this little guy is already geared to work and provide.





 Mr. Cutie Patootie got the ultimate birthday gift on his actual birth day because Daddy stayed home.  You see, Mohawk Man came down with a really bad cough the night of the 12th and within a couple of hours we knew it was not going to be a good night.  I read up on croup and was 90% sure that was what he had at 3am when he woke with a coughing fit that made it hard for him to breath and snap out of.  So, by 3:30, LadyKiller and myself were on our way to the emergency room.  The car ride was enough to calm him down so I felt kind of silly walking into the ER with a sleeping baby asking for the Dr. to look at him because he was having trouble breathing (through the snoring).  Thankfully our trip to the ER was remarkably short and we were home by 6am, just in time to sing Happy Birthday to Monster Man and Daddy decided to stay home to rest off the eventful night.  The ULTIMATE gift for a 3-year-old boy who adores his dad.

His mother, who thought she had outdone herself this time, about lost her eyes from rolling so far back in her head when it was time for Nathan to open his gift.  Nathan has been talking about SpiderMan for months.  He saw a 5 minute snippet of the movie and was enamored with him.  Jumping around like SpiderMan and shooting webs was quickly taking over Monster Truck activities.  So when I had him open his SpiderMan costume, which would conveniently cover Halloween also, I thought I had this one in the bag.

Not quite.


Nathan opened his gift, said "Oh", looked at both sides of the packaging and asked, "Where's my toys?"



Little stinker still hasn't put it on.  But SpiderGirl has visited a time or two.

Update: this was all the time he spent in the costume...




His birthday party was a success.

Some of his biggest fans showed up to celebrate with him. 

Looks like Daddy needed some help.



Some of us were wondering if the near dry-rotted rope might need some help also.

 

It managed.

Our front yard was separated into zones.  There was the unwrapping zone...

The unpacking zone...(this zone being manned by the one person I know of that despises tinkering with tiny, detailed, difficult to undo objects.  A funnies home video just waiting to happen.)
  

The observation zone...
 
 

 Please don't ask me what she's wearing.  I gave my mother a fit with my clothes in elementary school, so it's only fitting.  This was not a battle worth fighting.

And the Oh Yeah! zone.

CowPapa got him these real reading glasses and there's a story to go along with it.  Last week, Nathan found the cardboard with instructions on it for his GraveDigger truck we were jumping in the hallway.  He came up to me and said, "Mama, Wook, I found the map for my GwavesDigger.  Want me to wead it to you?"
"Why yes I do.  Will you please read me what the instructions say big guy?" I asked.
"OK Mama."  He squinted his eyes for a second and said, "Oh, I need to get my weading gwasses."

So he walked into the playroom, got the sunglasses out of a bin, brought them back and put them on the tip of his nose.  He tilted his head back, looked through the glasses perched on the tip of his nose and started "reading" the instructions for how to operate the truck.

Neither Jim nor I wear reading glasses, so go figure, he's picked up on that from the little bit we're around people who do.


Nathan and Henry got into the MINE showdown.  Henry was attempting to hone in on Nathan's new tractor and he would have nothing to do with the sorts.

 And don't worry my dear Nephew, M, two years ago you declared "Uncle Jim, you guys don't have ANY fun toys here at all" and I got this beautiful picture of you in the pink Barbie jeep.  Sweet.

And whaddayaknow I got another one from this year. :)

Be careful kid, I am the keeper of the photos and I take my job VERY seriously.  You will be old enough one day to be morbidly embarrassed of me.


The Motley Crew.

The weather was beautiful (not like his party 2 years ago, when it was sweltering hot) and we enjoyed another day of celebrating our little man's life.

Happy third birthday, Nathan.  You bring us much joy and laughter.  We can always count on you to surprise us with something that makes us laugh.  I love you so much and look forward to many more birthdays watching you grow.

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