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.