Capturing Three

Three is hard.  Three yells and screams when Three doesn't get his way.  Three interrupts your instructions with a litany of "no's," and puts his four-inch-tall hand in your face, and tells you--more clearly this time--what he's doing and why he shouldn't be doing what you told him to do.

Three sits at dinner and blows bubbles in his milk until his dad is forced to set down his fork and tell him to stop.  Then Three blows a few more bubbles, more slowly and purposefully, yet recognizably more forcefully, staring straight ahead like a warrior marching into battle.

Three listens for when his sister has been told not to go down the slide on her back and head-first, and then launches himself down the slide after her...on his back and head-first.  Because no one told Three not to do this.

Three also listens for when his sister is tearfully in the Time Out Spot, and then he casually walks by, waving and smiling.

Three runs excitedly over to see what his sister is so excited about on the patio...a tiny roly poly cradled in her cupped hands.  When the roly poly hugs itself into a petrified ball and rolls off her hands to the concrete, Three stomps on him.  Three doesn't like most insects.

Three has been praying for his friend Helena and also his second best friend, cupcakes (no, not anyone's name. I'm talking about the baked goods, in general), for about 200 consecutive days.  Three has called his mother "Mr. Pricklepants" for the last 250.

Three asks for privacy when pooping, and then shouts a simple, emphatic, "DONE!" when it is time for you to come wipe his butt.  Three reports the number of poops he had this time.

Three pushes buttons.  Forever.

But it's not really forever.  Not at all.  In fact, Three will be over in less than five months and then I'll be writing about Four.  Three isn't always easy, but Three can fade in the most well-intentioned memory.  I know, because trying to remember what my five-year-old was like at three is difficult, with only wisps of memory coming through, with the help of pictures and video.

Three demands to be captured.

Not too long ago, I was introduced to yet another amazing poem by Billy Collins, called "To My Favorite 17-Year-Old High School Girl." With this poem, Collins easily captured what 17 looks like--extraordinarily, and not so extraordinarily--in a poem addressed to said 17-year-old.  So, challenged by a colleague in the spring, I decided to take Collins' poem and write for my Three, mimicking Collins' style and borrowing some of his words.

After a trying week at the end of summer with Three, it felt good to come back to this poem.  Enjoy, and capture.

To My Favorite 3 Year Old Preschooler

“Do you realize that if you had been already 6 months old

on the day you were born,

I would have weathered the first six weeks so much better?

Of course, then your gloriously unmedicated birth would have been another level of Hell.

So never mind; I think I needed you to be so small and vulnerable,

even if it wrecked me

for awhile.

At your age, you can lead a charge against Daddy’s requests

more fiercely than Joan of Arc,

and you can make yourself a martyr,

pounding on the other side of the door,

declaring that we are mean and it’s not nice to put people

behind doors.

Of course you know there will be time to argue for liberation

again tomorrow,

or later today,

so when you give up the fight

and come out of the room,

you look refreshed

and Daddy is a sugar cube left out in the rain.

But did you know that at your age

you sing more beautifully than Judy Garland

after the lights are out in your room,

even if you’re singing about

Thomas’ latest adventure?

For some reason I keep remembering that

when Gracie was your age,

I was excited for her to be older.

But now that she’s five,

my years of holding her against my heart

as I travel around the house

are almost up.

And you, you might only have

two years left

of your whole life

that I can carry you with me--

two bodies

and only one pair of feet on the floor.

I know that this is true now

and so I want you to know

at your age,

you sing our family’s song,

you lead the charge,

but that doesn’t mean that you’re not

mama’s little buddy,

my favorite version of you

two feet off the ground.”

To My Son: 8 Quirks of Yours that Bring Me Closer to God

1.  Your Playing-With-Trains Position. 

Trains are a major obsession of yours, and you have a particular position that you find to be ideal for train-playing.  You lie down next to the track on your tummy, your head rested on one arm while your other arm moves the train back and forth.  You're brilliant; this position seems optimal for track-viewing and seeing trains as they ought to be--not from above, but alongside.  When you assume the Position, I know that you are lost in a world that only you and Thomas know.  I picture God in a similar position as life plays out for us, too.



2.  We call them your After Dinner Laps.  Every night, without fail, after you finish your dinner, you climb out of your chair and begin a sprint through the hallways, around and around the house.  Every. Night.  The rest of us love to find different ways to intercept you, whether it's Gracie trying to scare you from around the corner, or whether it's Daddy the Tickle Monster snatching you up, or whether it's me chasing you as a member of your track team because, let's face it, it's the only exercise I got all day.  It's predictable and yet never gets old, which oddly makes me think of God's role in our lives--as the ultimate around-the-corner surpriser, the occasional Tickle Monster, and definitely our teammate chugging along behind us.



3.  Your I'm-Mad-and-You-Should-Know-It Position.  Nothing pushes Daddy and me to hide our amusement more than this position that you assume when you are upset.  This maneuver is silent and still and has occurred everywhere from our kitchen floor to the floor of the Science Center.  It's your own version of planking, and it's hilarious.  You don't find it funny, though, and Daddy and I try really hard to humor you by taking you Very Seriously in these moments.  Don't feel bad.  I believe that I probably look like this often in God's eyes, and despite his knowledge that it's not as bad as I think it is, he still takes me Very Seriously, too.


 
4.  Your Awesomely Unchecked Love of Traditionally "Girly" Toys/Activities.  The benefit of having an older sister that you idolize is that you are able to play with girl stuff without being ridiculed.  The
other day, Gracie had her princess dolls lined up with their dresses laid out in a different line.  She was quizzing you on which dress went with which princess.  You knew almost all of them.  Your favorite princess is Elsa, you asked for a wand for a prize at Happy Joe's, and you are happy to have tea with anyone who might be interested.  Needless to say, the girls at school love you.  I have heard it from several of their parents.  I love that you are still at a stage where you can explore all sorts of interests and not have to worry about whether it's manly or not.  You have value no matter what you love and what you choose to dive into. God's been encouraging this lesson in me for a long time and I've never understood it better than when I can watch you play uninhibited.



5.  Your Need to Touch. 

Anyone who sits next to you at dinner has been the victim of The Zeke Shoulder.  If you are ever close enough to someone to touch them, you will, regardless of whether you have BBQ sauce on your fingers or not.  Many of my shirt sleeves can attest to this. You've just always been a cuddler and a toucher.  You like contact and closeness with others.  I think this is why so many of your family members scoop you up as soon as they see you--they love to be on the receiving end of cuddles from you.  I hope you never grow out of this, as so many people suffer from isolation and trust issues.  We all kind of need fingerprints on our shirts.



6.  Your Passive Aggressive Retaliation.  You are a kid who is a lover, not a fighter.  However there are plenty of times that your anger can be pushed to a certain level that I call your Attack Phase.  Somehow, even when you were two, you figured out that hitting or other forms of physical aggression would only get you in trouble.  So, instead, if someone angers you, you will do one of the following: stick your tongue out, roar in their face, stand extremely close to them so that they are uncomfortable, and/or my favorite, hugging them extremely hard.  None of these things are infractions that are technically breaking rules, and you have figured out how to retaliate without getting yourself in trouble.  Well done.  I wish I had the strength to hug people that annoy me, too!  I'm still working on that.



7.  Your Laugh.  Oh My Goodness, Your Laugh.  You laugh with your entire body, heart, and soul.  You always have.  When something tickles your funny bone, we all gather round and watch you lose it!  Your laugh is an encounter with an unreplicable joy, full force. This is one of my favorite videos of you when you were 15 months old.  No further explanation needed.

8.  The Unparalleled Joy That Your Sister Brings Out in You. 

You and Gracie are best friends.  There are times when we visit cousins or other friends and she occasionally ditches you for older kids and you cannot hide your disappointment!  But, never fear, Buddy.  She loves you so much--as much as you love her.  She looks out for you ("Zekie!  Don't eat that!  It has dairy in it!") and often looks past her own desires to make you happy ("Zekie can keep Hungry Hungry Hippos in his room because he loves it so much").  While the road is sometimes rocky between siblings, it makes me inexplicably happy to know you two will be loyal to each other for life.  You are so blessed, and so am I.



This is just a short list of the things that make you the beautiful and highly entertaining three year old that you are.  Though I pray daily that you come to know God and that you can show God's light to others, I have to say that already I've grown to know God's love just by loving and being loved by you.  Also, because I know how deeply you already impact me, Buddy, I want to share it with anyone I can.  You light up my blog, and you fill up my heart.  I love you.

Love,
Mommy