At 3
I have entered a new stage of motherhood. I am officially mothering a willful and determined 3 year old boy. Though I have been officially mothering him for a while now, his recent arrival to 3 marks this new era of our lives together. Lets begin with words. Words that glide of his tongue like butterfly wings in spring: “actually” to accentuate what he really is trying to say, or perhaps “Te amo” accompanied by his wet kisses. Then, of course, comes his endless release of energy: climbing up my back while i clean the bath tub, while i’m cooking, or doing my downward dog stretch in the morning, all of course are perfect opportunities that tickle his curious and creative kinesthetic skills. OOOOh, and those sweet meltdowns, like warm marshmallows oozing sweetness from its perfectly burned crust: “I don’t want to brush my teeth, noooo, because i don’t want to, nooooo, nooooooooooooooooooo!” The wonderful, exhausting and white hair growing days of my life with a 3 year old.
They are often perfectly webbed with a unique sense of perfection. The kind of exactitude that comes from looking at your very image on a mirror, reflecting back nothing but the truth. My son, is such a reflection, challenging me into perfection every day. With a bit more patience, a bit more understanding, a bit more listening, he tweaks me bit by bit, until one day, when he is hairy and his feet stink, we’ll look at each other and smile at the journey we walked together.
Caoba is 3!
Warrior pose
Final blow to his Cement Mixer Piñata
Mixing colors, his favorite activity
