Three...And a Half.

Yesterday, my little boy turned three, and a half. And while some would say this is no reason for celebration, for me much like just about every month and milestone, it is.

H is big and tall and smart and silly and oh so the life of the party.

I see myself in his squinty eyes smiles and his bubbly laugh. The way he gets excited about the little parts of life, my heart smiles.

But he is also oh so a daddy's boy too. Friday night, J and H went to see Where The Wild Things Are, and one would have thought that H had won the lottery.

He got his daddy to himself and got to ride in daddy's car.

And have popcorn. And an icee.

Life is good when you're three. And a half.

The Lightning McQueen phase is fading fast. Instead being replaced by superheroes of all kinds. But somedays that little Lightning McQueen obsession flickers back in for a moment.

A fleeting moment.

He loves his activities. Preschool, Swim lessons, and seen here, Little Tigers class.

Preschool was an adjustment. An unexpected adjustment.

He's my Henry. He plays hard, fast, doesn't always take direction so great. He's our free spirit. Independent should be his second middle name.

But he really really really needed to work on being a little bit (or a lot) better listener in class.

Hearing this news nearly broke my heart. I mean, it was day SIX for crying out loud. I am biased and see him through a certain color glasses, because he's not just any little boy, he's mine.

He doesn't try to get in trouble, he's just so busy loving life that he does it. His teacher's words, not mine.

I've been trying to focus on the bright side, while also reinforcing the importance of turning our listening ears on.

Just so you know, he's now mastered the sticker chart.

I just want the world to see him the way I do.

A lover of life.

Happy Three and a Half years sweet boy.

And thank you for some of the best moments of my life so far.

Love, Mama