Dear Will,
A few weekends ago you turned three years old. We had a party with the neighbor kids, and all I can say about that is that it was quite the whirlwind. I have never been surrounded by so many boys in my life. But as it appears that I'm destined to spend my days surrounded by boys, I'm getting used to it.
All you wanted at your party was a Batman cake, which I promised to bake. I'll fess up now and say that I did NOT bake the cake in that picture, baking karma was bad on May 2nd, and I had to run to the grocery store at the last minute and buy one. For what it's worth, I did draw the Bat symbol on it myself. Someday your Aunt Jacqui will tell you that this happened because you're the middle child, and middle children always get the shaft. She's lying.
But don't worry, even if what she said was true, you don't have to worry, because Aunt Jacqui has taken it upon herself to look out for you. Apparently, middle children need to stick together. In fact, she's taken to calling me often and asking where you are, so if we go somewhere without you she can make a note of it on her List of Things That Are Patently Unfair. It's a long list.
Anyway, Batman cake or not, you seemed to enjoy your party quite a bit. You got a scooter, which is the only thing you really asked for. Even though you're only three, we bought a Razor scooter, because ohmygoodness you are very coordinated and athletic. For the last few months, you've been running down to the neighbor's house every chance you get to borrow Connor and Logan's scooter, which they always graciously loan you. You practiced and practiced on their scooter until you learned to ride it. Now you're practically a professional. Next thing we know, you're going to be asking Daddy to build you a ramp and a half-pipe, which we won't do until you're at least four.
Since your birthday, you've discovered the knock-knock joke. You tell these jokes all the time, whether or not they make any sense. Your two most recent jokes are definitely my favorite. They go as follows:
You: Knock-knock!
Me: Who's there?
You: NO ONE! [maniacal laughter]
Sometimes, instead of shouting "NO ONE!" you say, "YES ONE!"
The other one goes like this:
You: Knock-knock!
Me: Who's there?
You: I don't know!
Kid, you are funny. You and I have a thousand little inside jokes, most of which consist of me telling you NOT to do something, which you then proceed to do while giggling hysterically. You'll probably need lots of therapy as an adult, but the reverse psychology thing is genius as far as you're concerned. All I have to do is pretend that I HATE it when you kiss me, I DON'T want any hugs, and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE DON'T EAT THOSE VEGETABLES. If only this technique would convince you to use the potty, life would be perfect.
About the potty--you think it sucks, and that there's nothing more awesome than pooping your pants. What's better? You do not poop on a schedule, so I can't even decipher when I might want to make you at least try to sit on the potty. You only come and get me when you're done, and usually you say, "Well, at least I'm poopy!" Like it's some kind of status thing. But I can't complain, I suppose, because at least you're spending all night in your own bed these days, without your binky.
You are the best big brother, and you can't keep your lips off of Superbaby. You ask me at least every three minutes if you can kiss him, and when you're not kissing him, you're singing to him. You and Gus both do this. I hope it lasts.
You still copy everything Gus does, trusting him as the fearless leader. As far as you know, his ideas and his toys are the best, though you are less willing to let him boss you around these days.
You've turned into A Whiner. All I can say about that is that it better not last until your fourth birthday, because if it does, you will surely not. You're the dirtiest kid I've ever seen, and I can always tell what you've been doing by studying the wreckage of your day strewn across your shirt. You can dress yourself, though your fork skills are still questionable. Gus has taught you the magical way you can change a sentence by simply inserting the word "butt." You like everything except broccoli, and you always have room for dessert. You adore The Cheez above all other grandparents.
To put it simply, you're a fabulous little kid, and our family wouldn't be the same without you.
Love,
Mama
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