36 months

Dear Collin,
 Just last week you made the transition to being 3 years old. 36 months of existence on this green Earth. I'm not exactly sure how to explain your journey this past year, but as I see you arrive I wonder how you grew so much, how you turned into a generous and loving little boy. Trying hard to see how you went from such a inquisitive toddler to a confident and happy preschooler is sort of like squinting your eyes in a snow storm- for a moment you think you can make out the shapes and landmarks of the journey, but then with another blink everything realigns and you are lost again.

Sigh. I don't know how we got here.

Maybe we're lost.

Maybe we're right where we belong.

Its hard to tell.

But either way, the last 3 years have been a spectacular journey.

Just after you turned two I can remember brief moments of time that I hold preciously to my heart. You were exploring vocabulary voraciously, asking questions about everything you could, but your little voice betrayed you hanging on to "w"s for "r"s and "l"s. A little bit of the baby left in you, shining through, reminding me that you could still fit in the crook of my arm, maybe, if I really tried. "Pwease momma! I weally want more milk.", Momma, its  de-wish-ous! its taste-ee!" These simple phrases made me smile everyday, and now as I see you tackle paragraphs of conversation, asking and articulating your every desire I wish I would have recorded them more often so I could look back and remember you as a baby boy.

Just today we spent the morning with the Lunds and Brauns- daddy's cousins here in Minnesota and before brunch you said to me, "Excuse me momma, can I please let the dogs outside?"- such an adolescent question, one indicative of responsibility characteristics of a 5 or 6 year old. Let the dogs out? hmmm... I'm not sure you understand what that entails, but goodness gracious, you're asking as if you know. So I giggle, because it sounds so funny to hear you say such things. But the more often it happens the more bittersweet it becomes because instead of occurring once in a blue moon as an outlier among your language, these types of questions are now becoming part of your everyday vocabulary. You take on new words with feverish excitement. Woohee! Enormous means BIG! Beautiful means pretty! Coasters are for putting cups on! Hilarious means funny! Hart and Risley would be proud.

At the same time you were exploring your new-found independence in the bathroom, fleeing the constraints of your diapers as we declared you potty trained and let you on your way. Its most difficult for me to reconcile that you were just leaving the potty training window at this time last year, because just today the toddler potty made its appearance again as Owen starts down the same road. Going to the bathroom is second nature to you now (even if it does require a few reminders to wash your hands) even through the night. In fact, it was being potty trained that forced our hand in moving you into a toddler bed.

Sleeping is, and always has been one of your strongest suits. You take fantastic 3 hour naps and sleep well through the night, nearly every night. Our largest struggle with you this year was getting to stay in your bed. Once we switched to the toddler bed you immediately decided you'd prefer not to sleep there, or anywhere for that matter. You would just stay up. Our first attempt happened a little before you turned two and we quickly learned we had to put you back in a crib. But when we tried again at the beginning of this third year you learned the routine and successfully would go to sleep. Between then an now you've spent the past 9 months or so learning how get you to stay in your bed when its time to go to sleep. About 7:30 you head into your room, read your stories and get tucked into bed. For the first few months you would run out to greet us in the living room 5 or 6 times using every excuse you could- I have to go potty, I need a drink, I wanted to give you another kiss and a hug, I need you to tuck me in, please sing me rock-a-bye-baby....and the list goes on. After about a half hour of fun you would finally settle in and go to sleep. Here we are though, now at the threshold of your fourth year and you don't try to escape anymore. You settle in right away and go to sleep, which we appreciate, endlessly.

Because you were our first child we spent quite a bit of time entertaining you while eating when you were little. We made an effort to get you to eat every bite through a daily dog and pony show, and as a result, the likelihood that you would eat without some sort of entertainment sometimes wasn't in our favor until this past year. At about 2 1/2 you finally took the initiative to decide you were the master of your own plate, and made our lives tremendously easier by wielding the fork. This is in such contrast to Owen, who we've nestled a fork in his hands at 15 months and let him find his way. I imagine he'll be independently using utensils long before 2, so we apologize Collin, for coddling you so. We're just learning as we go, you know. This parenting gig doesn't come with a manual.

You've learned over the course of this year how to lure attention and you've honed your flirtation skills. Really turned on the charm. Just the other day you met your 2nd or 3rd or 3rd removed, or whatever it is, cousin and even though you didn't know her at all before that day by the end of the party you talked about her like you were best friends, leaving her with a kiss and a hug. You tuck your little chin in and bat your long eye lashes like you have no idea how to work over an older lady.
Its sort of ridiculous how cute you can be.

But, beware. We're on to you.

From two to three boundaries were your obstacle. You tested them, defined them, erased them. A day in the moment of boundary testing went something like this:

"Collin, do not pull Samson's tail again. It hurts Samson."

 "Collin, say you’re sorry to Samson, we don’t pull his tail."

Collin:Sorry Samson (this used to be something that sounded more like "Sowery Samson" I'm kind of sad that you grew out of that).

2 minutes later.

Collin turns around, snickers, and pulls Samson's tail.

"Collin, time out for pulling Samson's tail."

Round and round we went. 

Actually, I think we're still going round a bit, but at least the ride as slowed down.

Throughout the last year you've also really grown to know and understand empathy and compassion. Out of no where we hear phrases like, I love you Owen!, and it melts my heart every time. You are sincerely concerned for others when they are hurt or scared and even, on occasion personify that emotion yourself, as though you too feel their pain. Its endearing and sweet, and in all honestly, something I didn't think I'd really truly see in you for a few more years. 3 years old is young to be able to understand and gauge complex emotions.
Nevertheless, you surprise me everyday.

I should mention though that this doesn't mean you are sincere in saying sorry to your own brother. We're working through getting you to see the same things you see in others in him, but because he is your brother, your right-hand buddy, you tend to brush off the bumps, bruises and offenses you commit against him. This past year we've seen you progress from "sowery, Owenen"- followed by a quick hug and kiss to the recent "Owen, I am sorry for taking away the toy. It was a bad choice."- for the most part a phrase that suggests responsibility. Now, if we could just get you to be sincere about it with Owen, we'd be all set.

Even with all the bumps and bruises of two boys in a small house, you really are an amazing big brother. You can be so compassionate with Owen when you want to teach him something or help him. When you talk to him you use your own version of brother-ese, where your voice moves up a few notes at the end of every word and you try to explain what you are doing, or try to cheer him up. You are especially good at making him laugh, which is rather contagious. I love that you are quickly growing to be best friends. These moments are exactly why we decided to put just 18 months between you two.

There are days when you wake up ready to greet the world with little blessings showered here and there throughout the day. Sometimes it feels like that tiny moment, maybe just the glimpse of a smile, something endearing you've said, or a special squeeze, were just meant for me to enjoy. You practice these random acts of kindness, reminding me how amazing this world can be. The other day we were walking into a store and you stopped and turned to your dad and said, "daddy, will you hold my hand?" a week or so before that I caught you(without your noticing me) talking to Samson. It went something like this:
(in a soft "baby" voice that you take on when talking to babies or small animals)
Samson, I just want to pet your back. ( pets back).
Good job. You didn't bark. Good job.
Samson, I love you.
(Samson sits there continuing to sleep)
Samson, you are part of family. Momma, Daddy, Owen, Collin and Samson too.
Family means we love you.

The best part of it was that you had no idea I was watching. I was around the corner in the stairwell, away from the activity, but listening in. I had a huge smile plastered from ear to ear.

What a kind and loving boy you've become, Collin.

So here we are, at the entry of this fourth year and I have no idea how to anticipate what will come. This time next year I'm confident I'll be in awe of all that has happened, all that you've seen and learned in school (which you'll be going to 4 mornings a week in fall) and all that you've taught me. You are such a bright and talented little boy and I'm sure the milestones you surpass this year will continue to amazing your momma. We're so proud of you and can't wait to see what next year brings!

All our love,
Momma and Daddy