Three years.

Our little Charlie is three years old today. He’s been talking about his birthday for months. Well Charlie, today is THE day. You are three! We are all looking forward to a very special birthday dinner tonight, with each course chosen by the birthday boy himself. On the menu:

• Macaroni and cheese


• Butter beans


• Green beans


• Cinnamon bread


• Ice cream cones

Mmm. Carbalicious.

I very clearly remember the day you were born. You came into the world like a tornado. But as soon as the winds of a terrifyingly fast labor died down, your personality reminded me of your dad—laid back, willing to bend (but not break), adventurous, fun, funny. You are all of those things, little one. But as much as you are like your daddy, there is a magic about you and your ways that is oh-so distinctly Charlie.

Here are a few things I learned about you this year.

You love being outside.

Through every season.

And not just the warm ones, either. Not even Jack
will stay out there in the snow with you for that long.

You love helping me in the garden. (Thanks for the company.)

Your brother is your bestest, best friend.

You’ve told me so--especially in secret, when he is at school.

You can be sure that you are his bestest, best too.

Together, the two of you make messes that put Pig-Pen and the Tasmanian Devil to shame. Truly. It’s astounding. (And you guys are real life. Those guys are cartoons, for cripes sake.)

You are a bit shy.

I find your bashfulness to be quite adorable.
(This and final photo by our amazing picture-taking friend, Mike.)

You get sleepy at funny times, and in funny places.

You’ll sleep before the other shoe hits the floor.

You’ll sleep before you complete your final death-defying, pillow-jumping dismount.

You’ll sleep before finishing the last Cheeto. (Now that is something I cannot do.)

You love anything sweet. Meaning sugar.

I should have never, never introduced you to chocolate.

You love to make people laugh.

From strategically placed flatulent noises to stripping down nakey for a fancy dance, evoking laughter in others brings you joy. You’ve even ventured into your own style of joke-telling:

Charlie: “Why did the water swallow a cow tummy?”
Me: “Um, okay. Why?”
“Because he ate strawberries!”

(You just can’t make this stuff up, folks.)

Charlie, every day you charm me. Every day. You are delightful. You are smart. You are independent. You are sassy. You are helpful. You are cuddly. You are friendly. You are endearing.

You are so loveable.

You are so loved.

Happy birthday, my sweet baby. We are so happy that you are ours. Sugar high and all.

Now, on to year four.