Dear Gideon James,
Today, TODAY, you are three.
Free! (to quote you)
Oh, sweet child of mine. You are somethin’ ELSE. Is it possible you’ve made it three times around the sun already? You are strong, you are fast, and you are usually naked. And really, there’s not much more I can say about you in mixed company. Amen.
What will you want to know when you are older about Gus Man at Three? Ry is 6, Abby is 1, and you can tackle both of them to the ground in love and/or fury. You are just over 40 pounds. You are 39″ tall, which is 1 inch shorter than Ry was at three and entirely too short to be climbing and jumping the way you do. You are obsessed with trucks and trailers and tractors. You potty trained yourself about one month ago… and I do mean ‘yourself.’ I get no assist on this one in the books… you were one of those weird kids who just ‘got it’ immediately. This is why you are my favorite son.
President Obama is on his second term in office, gas is $3.60 per gallon, and we have about 25 head of longhorn cattle. You are impossible to talk to before you’ve eaten breakfast (my genes) and breakfast is usually cereal (your father’s genes). Actually, you’re impossible to talk to when you’re hungry, period. You have two levels of activity: none (when tractors are on tv) and tornado (anytime you are not watching tractors on tv). You have only one volume and that is LOUD.
I take that back. You are not always loud. Yesterday, Abby was crawling towards you to play and you stooped down to talk to her, cocked your sweet little punkin’ head to the side, and whispered, “Abby pay (play)? Abby pay me?” I started to tear up at the sweetness pouring from your little heart, but then Abby stood up and grabbed one of your trucks and you nearly chocked on exasperation, which brought us back around to,
You have your moments, Child.
You do not take naps anymore… not for the past 3 months or so. (Um, I did cry when that became official.) You are a freakishly good swimmer for a stout wee little lad and have an impressive ability to work a cordless drill. You are crazy fast on your feet and rarely- RARELY- fall accidentally. I do not understand it, really… but I have trouble standing without falling so these kind of skills are foreign to me.
Your Achilles Heal? Bedtime. Bedtimes with you are not so fun, Child. About 6 months ago, you caught on to the fact that the world continues after 8pm, and it has been a screaming, sobbing, kicking battle ever since. For you AND your parents. I’m hoping you grow out of it soon… we’re certainly not going to change our mind, though your perseverance is admirable.
You still wear a blue ball cap daily, you hate wearing a coat, and you do not- under any circumstances- like corn. You eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every day for lunch, you play well by yourself, and you have a tendency to sit on your younger sister when you want her to be near you. Again, sweet heart, my child. We’ll work a bit on your form.
Gus Man, you are so loved. You bring joy to so many people with your grin and your antics and your raspy little voice. May God continue to grow you into a passionate young man after His own heart… with a love for family, with a mind for solutions, and with hands and feet for service.
You will always be my favorite son.
Please don’t make me hafta visit you in jail.
What is YOUR favorite memory or story of Gus Man? Would you leave it in the comments so we’ll have a record of it later? Please and thank you so very much.