Talkative, funny, sneaky little Liam. As I type this you sit next to me on the table, hiding my pens, and notepads and telling me that they are "gone forever." How I dread the days when I can no longer just smile at you, and squeeze you tiny little cheeks until a smile pops up onto your face.
You just turned three. I'm not telling you because you don't know. You know alright. I'm just putting it in writing because I myself find it so hard to believe. Perhaps I never thought you'd actually reach such an old age. You made such a great two-year-old, the perfect balance of independence and reaching out for help. When you look at me I know with all my heart that you trust me. You believe in me more than Mike the Knight or Octonauts. I don't know if anyone in the history of ever has believed in me so much. It terrifies me.
When you whisper my name in the middle of the night; your hot breath in my face I can't get mad. I can't even tell you to go back to bed. I guess I'm also terrified of those days ending - of the day approaching when you'll no longer need me.
Three feels a little closer to that.
The problem right now is that you know you're cute. You know that you can flash anyone a smile and forgiveness and laughter will pour out of them. I hope you can always be so charming, but don't use it to manipulate others.
There is so much about your three year old self that I hope you keep forever...
I hope you always sing loud.
I hope you always stand by your opinions.
I hope you remain strong-willed.
I hope you always try new things.
I hope you never hold back your excitement.
I hope you always ask questions.
I hope you can continue to believe in me.
And I hope that you know your mama has loved you every day of your life.
I'll love you forever,