Three has been a hellish ride of tantrums and cuddles. One minute he's beggin for hugs and kisses and the next minute he's pulling a chunk of my hair out while screaming that he hates me.
But I see a change. I see him beginning to boil over but trying not to. I can see him trying to think before he speaks. Trying to "get a hold of himself," as he calls it. Tantrums don't happen every day. There is a day or two reprise, and I'm grateful.
He is so proud of turning four. He wants to be a big boy, and for some reason, he has decided four is that mile marker. He is smart and confident. He loves an audience. He has an intense need to be loved. In the middle of a tantrum, he will scream, "I need a hug. And. A. KISS!" However angry we are at each other, somewhere in that three, about to be four, wisdom, he knows that we just need to stop and love each other.
Smart cookie, that one.
This time four years ago, I was waiting out labor at home. Waiting for contractions. Pretending I might make it all night by going to bed. My water had broken at noon, so we waited. At 2:45, we left for the Birth Center. By 5:30, he was born. Around noon, be came back home and united our family of five.
Colin Henry, you complete us. You are hard work. You are tons of laughs. You are challenging and rewarding. You are my daddy made over. You are 100% unique and your own self.
I love you.
