Letter to Tricky - Three Years Old

My gorgeous Big Boy Tricky,

Oh little man, you are an absolute joy. Even now, three years on I still wonder what I did that was so good to deserve having you in our lives.

I sound like a broken record but you have come so far in the past twelve months and I am simply amazed. You’re no longer considered speech delayed and will quite happily talk in full sentences – in fact getting you to be quiet is now much harder than it ever was to get you to talk. I think you’re a bit of a perfectionist and didn’t want to attempt words until you knew you could say them. Your favourite sayings are “Beauty, Newc!” (aka John Newcombe) and “Watchu talkin’ bout, Willis?”. So yes, it appears you’re in a bit of a time warp.

You managed to practically potty train yourself about four months back. A few people have asked what my secret was, but I don’t think there was one. In fact I don’t think it had anything to do with me or your Dad at all. I think you were just ready and willing… although I’d say the jelly bean bribes and Lightning McQueen jocks did help a little. Add to that the fact that you weaned and you're practically a teenager now. Sorta.

You have the sweetest personality. You’re so caring and watching you develop empathy has been remarkable. Recently in a bout of teariness (at a news item on a rescued puppy I believe – hormones!) you came over and patted my arm, saying “You OK, mum? Need a cuddle?”. I just melted as you wrapped your arms around me.

Because I'm slightly obsessed with it, your manners are amazing. People always comment on them and you've already learned that they help you get what you want! You have the ladies at the fruit shop wrapped around your little finger and every week they give you fruit salad or a mango and you give them a cuddle and say thank you.

Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re no full time angel. You have a stubborn streak and make it very clear when you’re not happy. You have been saying you don’t like me and calling me mean when I ask you to pick up your toys. This breaks my heart a little. Not enough to clean up your toys for you though.

Bath and shower time isn’t very fun at the moment. You have a phobia of water on your face and head – it has been around for a long time but it is getting a bit worse lately. I’m not sure what is going on and I’ve tried so many things to make you feel OK but I’m failing terribly. You get so scared and worked up that I fear the neighbours will one day call the police, certain we’re doing something awful when we’re only washing your hair.

I’m still not a fan of your sleeping habits. I don’t mind co-sleeping, in fact I quite like the cuddles… but you are a pillow hog, a doona kicker-offer-er, a head butter and a kidney kicker. And you never wake up when you do any of those things leaving your dad and I to mutter under our breaths and check to see if our noses are bleeding.

Despite your uncanny ability to aim for my shnoz, I made you another birthday cake. I figured you would have forgotten about last years Fire Engine Cake and I could just buy you one because mama is a bit exhausted... but last month when I mentioned it was almost your birthday you piped up with "Will me get another Fire Engine cake?". Your memory is insane!! So this year you get a race track cake.

Of course the big news is you’re going to be a big brother. Little Bobbin is on the way and will be here before you know it. You hug my belly and say hello to the baby most days though I’m not sure you realize that Bobbin will live here when born… that part is still a work in progress. As is your big boy room to go with your big brother status. You have chosen cars and we are not at all surprised as you’re obsessed with all vehicles and can easily recognize all sorts of different cars and machinery (“It’s not a digger, mum, it’s an ex-avator” and “Look a Land Cruiser!”).

You’re a clever cookie, just like your dad. You can write the alphabet in capitals and last month you wrote your name for the first time. I was so proud and took a photo of it to send to all your grandparents. You spell everything out you see and then pretend you can read – you have a bottle with Star Mart on it and you spell out “S T A R M A R T… drink bottle!”. The first time you did it we’d been eating takeaway from Harry and the Boys – you spelled out every single letter on the box and declared “PIZZA!” as the grand result. I giggle every time.

You’re growing up so fast, lad, and next year you’ll be in kindy, away from home two and a half days a week. I’m pretty sure you’ll crack it and declare you don’t want to go every. single. time. Then go, have the best day ever and then refuse to come home. Just like you do for day care every single Thursday.

Thank you for another amazing year. With you around I think I’m learning just as much about life as you are. You remind me what is important every day: family, love, forgiveness and bed time.

So happy birthday, Tricks, here's your montage (smaller this year thanks to a tech issue!). I chose a jazz song for you since the genre is fast becoming your favourite. 

Love Mama xxx