Letter to my 3 year old

Dear Jonah,

Tomorrow you will turn 3 years old. You will tell anyone who asks that your name is Jonah and that you are "phree", and when you do it you will beat your chest as you say your name and hold up your thumb and two fingers to show your age.


You've had so many firsts this year. Your first snow, first movie (Kung Fu Panda), first time baking cookies, first encounter with a cactus, first big-boy bed, and sadly, your first encounter with the death of a loved one.


This last year I have learned what you love. Your favorite things are Hotwheels trucks, tractors (especially "bozer dozers", aka bulldozers), and anything from the Disney-Pixar movies, Cars and Toy Story. We bought you a Buzz Lightyear action figure the morning after you slept without your pacifier for the first time. You two are inseparable, along with the Cowboy Woody doll that Nana bought you for an early birthday gift. You call them "Oldy and Buzz", and regularly jump off of furniture hollering "to firbibby n' eeyon" (to infinity and beyond).


Your favorite things to eat are blueberries, strawberries, cantaloupe, pizza, and chicken nuggets. You pretty much hate everything else. Even mac n' cheese! Which leads me to the things you dislike. Naptime/bedtime comes to mind immediately. Right now you are fighting, belly-aching, stalling, and kicking when sleep time rolls around. Daddy and I even started locking your bedroom door at night to help you stay in bed, because you will get up and walk out in the hallway no less that 20 times each night, no matter WHAT we do or say. When you figured out how to unlock the door (in the dark), we turned the lock around. We have thanked God many, MANY times for that locked door.


You also learned to communicate really well this year. We discovered that you knew your alphabet, colors, shapes, and numbers over the last 365 days. "I love you too, Daddy", prayers at bedtime, and the art of negotiating are your specialties. Also, I'm starting to understand what Daddy's family meant when they told me his childhood nickname was Motormouth! There are days when I wonder if you'll take a breath.

Daddy loves to wrestle with you in the living room. You guys play pretty rough already. You climb all over him and he throws you around, you hit each other with pillows, chase each other around the kitchen and down the hallways.



He is your favorite playmate. When he gets home from work in the evenings you never fail to hop up and run to greet him with a, "Daddy! You're home!"

You're about 95% potty trained, you ditched your pacifier, but the biggest event of your third year has been the birth of your baby sister. I'm blown away by how well you are adjusting. You're my best helper! Running to throw away dirty diapers and bringing me clean ones. Fetching burp cloths, blankets, and the Boppy pillow.

I don't know what I'd do without you! I know you love your sissy already, and she's only a week and a half old. You ask to hold her, kiss her on the head, let her hold your fingers, and put up with her fussing around your bedtime. Such a good big brother!

I know we've thrown your routine out of sync and rocked your world by bringing Gracie home from the hospital, but you're handling it beautifully (minus the slight regression in the potty-training department). Your world is going to be further rocked when you start pre-school next month. Why do I feel like crying about that?

I love you, J-Dub. You're my favorite son.

Love,

Mama