And now he is Three...

My Baby is three.A three year old boy, to be more specific. He runs and climbs and insists on steering the truck when we drive to the ranch. He makes chainsaw and motor vehicle noises. He tackles people (and the dog) and head- butts to demonstrate affection. He still snuggles and kisses and would rather sleep in my bed than anywhere else. He likes to play "gohn-ups" with Ethan; they talk in deep, grown-up voices about their work and their tractors. He loves to draw and cut and glue. "What does dis say," he asks about the scribbles he has made across the page. "Does dis say Evan?" Almost, baby. He loves to be read to, and I hope he never outgrows that. His favorite book is still Big Red Barn. He loves Sunday School and reading the Bible in the evenings. He loves baking and stirring and spilling. He loves vegetables and meat more than any other foods. (?) He loves putting on his boots and helping his Dad. Ethan is his best friend, and watching them play and learn and work together brings more joy to my heart than I ever could have imagined. His other best friend is Eve.

He loves spending time with his grandparents and aunts and uncles. And why wouldn't he, as surrounded with love as he is?
The highlight of the birthday party on Sunday was a little guitar. "I'm so gad I have mine own contar!" he exclaimed jubilantly. He noticed something was missing, though, and opened up Gramma's case to point it out. "I need dis... sumpsing," he said, pointing to the strap. I pulled one off a duffel bag and Tessa MacGuyvered it into a functional guitar strap. It worked great when he slung it over his head to sing "Dis Widdle Wight of Mine" with Gramma, and it was even more useful when he moved on to play with something (or sumpsing) else.

Happy birthday, Baby. I love you with every beat of my heart. I am so proud of all that you are learning and the sweet person you are becoming.

Neither Art nor Craft

We've been doing a lot of gluing lately. By 'we' of course I mean those two nimble blondes who can scramble onto the counter and into the art supply cupboard before I can say "Don't climb with scissors."





At first I couldn't stifle the inner preschool-teacher-assistant in my head. "Too much! Too much! What are you going to actually going to put on the glue?"



Then I remembered that in August glue was on sale, like 6 for a dollar, and I stocked up. And I thought, what do I care if they don't use the glue to affix something to something else. Everyone is so happy right now, no one has noticed that I am eating chocolate chips out of the jar.

Plus, look at how it teaches them to deal with adversity. "No mo' goo is comin' out!"

And the satisfaction of squeezing mo' goo out all by yourself.

And the utter joy of creating something uniquely yours, even if no one knows what it is and you have glue on your eyelashes.

Not to mention the utter joy of the mama not sharing chocolate chips.

Med School

We couldn't resist this set of little scrubs when looking at Halloween costumes. The boys love their doctor set, and this was just the addition to the dress-up box that we have been needing.

Trick or Treat

We were all waiting in suspense to find out what the boys were going to dress as- Ethan had considered pirate, batman, cop, and ghost. Evan was too distracted by the prospect of "knockin' on dohs an' gettin' CANDY" to think about costumes. "Is today the pahrty where we knock on people's dohs?" he asked every morning. Finally, it was... and the streets were a little safer with this policeman and firefighter on duty.