You are three years old.
You chose standard birthday candles over a giant number three. You requested chocolate cake with yellow frosting (at first you wanted blue, and we were glad you changed your mind). You held the frosting tube as Mama wrote “Happy Birthday” (you didn’t want your name on it), put gummy bears on it, and stuck the candles deep into it in a nice little cluster.
You wave goodbye to Mama and blow her kisses when she leaves you at school.
You sometimes push your classmates and then grin at the teacher.
You recently declined an offer of honey to soothe your cough, saying, “No, I’d like a chocolate biscuit for my cough.”
You have lost the baby fat from your feet.
You had your first hearing and vision tests at your three-year checkup — the nurse was amazed at how well you followed directions.
You told the doctor (when he asked) that Mama was a boy. This was also part of your checkup. Other than that, you passed with flying colors. And to be fair, you could have been confused — Mama always calls herself a lady or a woman, not a girl.
You got a basketball hoop, a science book, and a marble track for your birthday. You love all three.
You sometimes declare “I don’t like you Mama, I want Daddy to put me to bed” when Mama is putting you to bed.
You sometimes declare “I don’t like you Daddy, I want Mama to put me to bed” when Daddy is putting you to bed.
You were reluctant to come downstairs to join the crowd (of five people) at your birthday party. Half an hour later, you were chatting happily with everyone.
You count to three like so: “One, two, tree!” This leaves no doubt of your Polish heritage.
You get royally pissed off when Mama says she can’t understand you when you whine.
You were able to sing snippets of “All the Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it)” after hearing Mama sing it twice. This leaves no doubt that you are Mama’s offspring.
You recently learned how to propel yourself around the pool on a water noodle. You were concerned when Mama showed you she wasn’t holding the noodle anymore, but then your face lit up when you realized you had independence in the water.
You are flirting with the idea of potty training but have thus far only condescended to practice sitting on the toilet.
You continue to be a picky eater — so much so that you refused to eat the pancakes at your school’s Pajama Day and only ate a few bites of frosting from your birthday cake. Well, that and all the gummy bears on your piece. And the gummy bears from Mama’s piece.
You are three years old, and your new favorite phrase is, “I can do it myself!”
Mama-Come-Lately 