Birthday Letter

Dear Eric,

You turn three years old tomorrow. You seem quite uninterested in the whole age thing; every time I bring it up (“do you know how old you’re turning?”) you change the subject (“mommy, is this crocodile good or bad?”), but we finally managed to get you to repeat that you are turning three. You can’t really stick up three fingers yet.

We all went to the store and you picked out T-Rex balloons for your birthday. You didn’t want anything else. Lately you’ve been really into Legos—you’ll play for hours by yourself, setting up your own little arrangements and then stashing them on shelves, probably so Elijah can’t get to them—so we got you some pirate Legos, and Laura got you a Peter Pan set with a crocodile. You were really excited about the strawberry cake with the candle. Right now Ellie is upstairs making you a “surprise” present and you’re asking every three seconds, “and now is it ready?” and she keeps saying, “no, I’ll show you tomorrow.”

You are still so adorable. You have the palest, softest skin and that dimple on your left cheek and you still smile when you talk. You talk, all the time, mostly in English, and you speak with careful, precise enunciation. You ask why about everything (“mommy, why… why… WHY…”), and it really seems like you and Ellie never stop talking to each other (or over each other). Daddy says you are the perfect size to cuddle, not so chubby anymore, but not all angles either, and you really enjoy being tossed around. Daddy usually hugs you real hard while Ellie is praying at night for bedtime.

You’ve thrown some new challenges at us this year, too. Mostly it involves a pretty strong will, which takes the form of not wanting to change out of your diaper or pajamas, or not wanting to leave the house, or not being able to be distracted, cajoled, or reasoned out of anything you’ve make up your mind about. We are all praying really hard that God uses your strong sense of self and will to do some amazing things in the future, and in the meanwhile, we’re grateful that your phase of more frequent tantrums seems to have passed.

Here are the things you like: saying certain phrases (“we have to go to church!”) and copying things your sister just said (“can I be a pregnant baby puppy?”). Pirates, swords, crocodiles, dinosaurs. Practically any kind of food, including spinach and capers. Being naked, or in perpetual pajamas. Listening to your sister read books not-from-imagination, even though it takes a while. “Hugging” your baby brother in an alarmingly enthusiastic and loud fashion. Lugging around ten white security blankets. The knuffle bunny story. Drawing—you finally can draw real figures now (debuted with a family portrait drawn with pen on the glider footrest in your room). Acting out all kinds of imaginary stories, mostly involving animals with nests or hiding from bad guys.

You can be loud, talkative, and silly, but most of the time you are still your quiet, thoughtful, cautious self. I really like watching how serious and quiet you are when you play by yourself, building elaborate Lego arrangements or neatly lining up blocks. I like the way you say, “I love you real bad” and how you like kisses and hugs and how even after a tantrum you really just want us to hold you for a while. You are such a wonderful, gifted, special little boy. We love you, real bad, forever and ever.

Love,

Mommy