Isaac. ISAAC. He’s three and a half today and I’ve never felt quite so equal a measure of savor-these-sweet-days AND sweet-Jesus-when-will-this-end. He is excitement and affection and stubbornness and ungratefulness in one single package. Three is a ride. This is our boy:
Current loves include his yellow scooter, which got more use in warmer months, but still gets pulled from the garage when the sun comes out.
I don’t pull out the paints and brushes as often as I’d like, but when I do, Isaac’s inner artist really lights up.
We still throw a lot of rocks…
And then we head to Starbucks for the occasional special treat. Their steamers have upended our milk game… I make Isaac a cup of warm milk each morning and add a couple of drops of vanilla, Isaac accepting the sippy cup and asking, 1: “Is it warm?” and 2: “Does it have a LOT of banilla?”.
We’ve cycled through obsessions with Mario Brothers, Trolls, Paw Patrol, Spiderman, and Sonic the Hedgehog, but cars and trucks are still his end-all, be-all. He falls asleep most nights snuggled next to something with wheels.
There are days when it feels like we’re in an endless loop of coaxing, negotiation, and discipline. Isaac, let’s see if you can get dressed before the Gummi Bear song is over! Isaac, finish your hamburger and you can have a dessert. Isaac, stop jumping on the couch or you’re going in time out. ISAAC, WORK WITH ME HERE!
He had his first dentist appointment in November and I dreaded the lead-up to it, remembering how Juliette wailed through her check-ups as a toddler, but Buddy hopped right up in that chair, slipped on those sunglasses, and opened his mouth wide before the hygienist had even taken a seat next to him. Occasionally he makes things easy on us.
Bathtime snaps…
And bedtime drama! Goodness, we’ve been put through our nighttime paces these past couple of months. Our routine usually starts out fine – we get through pajamas and toothbrushing without much fuss and I love the few minutes we spend snuggled up in his bed, reading books and singing songs.
But then I turn out the light and the whining and pleading begins. “Sleep with me, Mommy? Peeeeeeeease?” I tell him no, that I have things to do and that I need to sleep in my own bed, and his eyes fill with tears as he cries, “But I need some peoples in my room! It’s hard! It’s too hard!” I tried comforting him, closing his door (he bolts out of bed and throws it back open in seconds), reasoning with him, yelling at him…he just could not bear to be left alone. Finally, though, bribery for the win. I told him if he was a brave boy I would get him a brave boy car. And, he slept.
At the end of the day, though, sleep woes and stubbornness be damned. He’s tender and exuberant and gives the very best hugs.
Isaac Henry, Happy 3.5.
