Dear Brock,

Yesterday you turned 3.

My first child who came screeching into this world nearly three weeks early is no longer a baby.  You are, in fact, a big boy.  A big boy who can count to twenty.  A big boy who can proudly tell you all of the letter of the alphabet & is reading Dick & Jane books.  A big boy who is potty-trained.  A big boy that knows enough to tell his momma that she is pretty when he wants something.

My sweet first-born child.  The child that looks just like your father but has your mother’s stubbornness.  My sweet child that can push every button I have but at the end of the day, you melt me with a giant hug and a thousand sweet kisses.

On Saturday we celebrated your 3rd birthday with food, family, presents & Toy Story cake.  Yesterday, just the four of us went out to breakfast where you and your sister were hellions and your daddy asked me, “Why do we keep coming here, hoping that it will be better than the last time?”  The answer is simple.  Because one day it will be.  One day, your daddy and I will look back and laugh about how rotten our little babies were.  But it will be a sad, wistful laugh because that day in the future will remind us of the times when our sweet babies still wanted to celebrate their birthday with us.  It will remind us of a time when you would come running into the living room after a bath and yell, “It’s nakie-boy!” or how every morning you jump in our bed and beg us to watch an episode of Dora.  It will remind us of a time when you sucked your thumb when you hold your little brown dog.  It will remind us of a time when kisses were all you needed to heal an owie.

So, right now, even when you are driving your momma and daddy crazy with your crazy shenanigans, I am trying to absorb everything.  I am trying to take a million pictures of you so I can capture the beautiful things you are doing at this age.  I am filling in your baby book and maintaining a blog filled with pictures and stories of you and all of the hilarious and crazy things that you do and say.  I want to always remember what an awesome little person you are.

Your daddy and I love you so much more than a blog entry can say.  I hope, more than anything else, that you always know how wonderful and special you are.  Happy birthday, big boy.



Vintage Brock


Brock, age (almost) 3


10 thoughts on “Tres

  1. Don’t forget, him saying “You want a piece of my, do you?!” when he was supposed to take a nap and not backing down from you. Sorry but that was so funny. Reminds me of two children I once knew that would fight every time they saw each other no matter how much I threatened them (luckily one of them went home every night!). And Sissy pointing at him when he was in trouble telling him “Sit”. Oh man do you have your hands full, once again, see why I wanted so long to have two. I would have killed one of you or myself if you were closer together in age.

    • For the last time . . . it is not funny when my kid says, “You want a piece of me?!” when I’m trying to make him take a nap. If you laugh at him again when he says it (because we know he will), he’s coming to live with you for a month.

      Betcha won’t think it’s funny then! 😉

  2. what a great age take in everything you can before you know it he will be in school then he will be driving and dating then you will be the Grandma and Grandpa time goes by so fast enjoy ever little bet of the time you spend with them. Take them out as often as you can that is how they learn to be good when you our out. He was so cute when he got after Grandma Liz when she set in Grandpa Moore chair Sat. Love all of you

    • I cannot believe how quickly the time is flying by! And he is turning into such a little grown-up. The thing with the chair was really sweet–he didn’t want Grandpa to lose his seat! 😀

  3. Tara, you’re being a great mom! Keep it up. He cracks me up and reminds me so much of when the boys were little. Don’t listen to your mom about having you guys so far apart. I love the fact that our guys and your two are so close agewise. They become each others best friends (and sometimes worst enemies). Enjoy this ride of parenthood.

    • Thanks for the vote of confidence. Although, I’m not sure that my kids would always agree that I’m doing a good job. But I’ve heard that if your kids hate you at various times in their lives then it does, in fact, mean that you are doing a good job. I guess only time will tell . . .

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