I’m almost a week late. This is shaping up to be a pattern. Don’t worry, like your sister, you too have a therapist-fund set up.

My handsome boy,

I can’t believe you are three years old. It seems that only yesterday you were just a newborn, sleeping 8 hours a night and whining a bit when you got hungry. I know, we had it great with you, and we didn’t even know it. You have certainly found your voice in those years. Never an unexpressed thought, you comment about everything and everyone that come your way. And I love that. I love that this stream of chatter gives me a window to your stream of consciousness, to the things you notice and the things you learn without me even knowing.

You are beginning to make friends now at daycare, and generally pay more attention to other children. It is already clear that your devotion is complete. You only have one friend, and you only want to play with him. I wish I could make him go back to the junior room so that you can play with him all day, but you will have to learn that sometimes we can’t spend all the time we want with the people we want to spend it with. Actually, I think you already learned that, and now you say goodbye to me when I head out to work, followed by a “have a good day at daycare” (I wonder what do you think I do all day?) and a great big kiss. You are well on your way for independence – and I miss you already.

You are a smart kid, and a sensitive kid. You notice things others don’t, and you make connections that make my jaw hit the floor at least once a week. So on your (belated) birthday, I wish that as you grow you would find ways to use your brains to manage your sensitivity. Manage, not just in the “cope” meaning, but also in the “run” meaning – that you will be able to harness your sensitivity to your benefit. Being sensitive is not easy, but it looks like you have enough ingenuity that you will be able to deal with this trait. I wish for you to find your own way to being a big kid.

Yours forever,

Mommy.