Happy 3rd Birthday to My Little Man

Dear Dylan,


I always knew you'd be a handful. I really did. 


You gave me a run for my money from the first day I knew you were coming. A trip to the emergency walk-in clinic for the pains I thought were a near fatal bladder infection turned kidney infection is what tipped me off to your impending arrival. Oh, how excited I was to find out my self-diagnosis was wrong.


My back went out, while I was pregnant with you and I quite literally couldn't sit down for months. Crazy new chairs were invented by your grandfather in an effort to give me relief. They didn't work. 


Then, when you decided to join the rest of of the world, you did so in a hurry and didn't allow your poor mommy the time required to get the drugs she so desperately wanted. Needed. I will tell you this story in more detail at a time in your life when you are fully able to grasp what that means. Several times, in fact. Yes, I'm one of those moms.


You are one strong spirt. Your eyes tell a story long before you open your mouth.

One minute you make me want to pull out my own hair and then the very next minute I can't kiss you enough.

You have finally retired your ratty stuffed Elmo and are now obsessed with Spiderman.

Last week you said, "I'm cool, mom. I'm cool.  I'm cool, right? Mom? Am I cool?" You are super cool.

You call your Ipod your "Ipot".

You call popcorn "c*ckporn" and, though I know I should correct you, I simply refuse.

You are a "momma's boy" according to your dad and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

You ask unabashedly for cuddles. You are a world class cuddler. 

You tell me that you love me about 76 times a day. 

You enjoy telling your sister that you don't love her.

Your favorite foods are hot dogs and spaghetti and fruit roll-ups. 

The only vegetable you willingly eat is cucumber.

You can make your sister cry in 3 seconds flat. You do it with a smile on your face. Sigh.

The only time you even remotely grasp the concept of "sharing" is when someone else has something you want. The concept is lost on you any other time.

You're smart.

You went through a phase where you drew on furniture and walls. Here's a picture of your first adventure with a black permanent marker. It was not your last. Mommy finally got smart and only has washable markers in the house now.

I told you once rather flippantly (about 6 months ago) that you could have gum when you turned 3. You remembered. You've remind me every day that you're turning 3 soon and you want gum. Please stop swallowing it. It makes mommy nervous.

It takes you a very long time to pick out your pajamas every night.

You wake us up twice a night when you've kicked off your covers and want to be tucked back in.

You like wearing mommy's shoes and your sister's head bands around the house.

We made a deal, you and me.  You promised not to grow up anymore, and stay my 'Little Man' forever. Your sister flat out refused to participate in this pact. But you... you were quick to agree. "Okay, mom" you said. Then you hugged me. I thought the deal was sealed, but you're not holding up your end. You hit me with 2 major milestones in the same week. Your first day of pre-school, and your third birthday. Why must you torture me so?

Yes. I was right about you. You are a handful. A deliciously sweet, adorably irresistible handful that I love more than you could ever imagine. 


Happy 3rd Birthday, my sweet Little Man.