Happy Birthday Baby!

My baby is 3. Not to sound like a caricature of an over-sentimental, semi-neurotic mother, but I had mixed emotions about this birthday. 2 didn't bother me so much because 2 is, well, still babyish. There's still so much they cannot do for themselves. But 3 is...old. In some ways, Jack is old beyond his years, mostly in terms of speech and the way he relates to people. Sometimes though I forget how old Jack is. Perhaps it is because he's small in stature (see paragraph below), still sleeps in his crib (at his request), is not yet potty trained, or because his demeanor is so sweet and innocent. I forget, that is, until he says something like "No THANK you, mommy, I would like to do [fill in the blank] all by myself please." Or, as he said the other night, "Soon, mommy, soon I will be a grown up too." That one caused a few tears to run down my cheek. What is it about children that makes them want to always be older than they are? No matter what adults told you about how much better was to live in the innocent, worry-free, happy world of childhood, you always yearned for that day when you could be "grown up." Sigh.

At Jack's checkup, he weighed in at 27 pounds and measured 36 inches, putting him in the 10th percentile for weight and 50th percentile for height. Last year he was in the 7th percentile for weight and 20th for height so at least he's moving in the right direction!

We celebrated with Jack's day o' fun, beginning with a trip to the zoo with Aunt Kennon, after, of course, opening some early presents (including a T-ball set and some books from Aunt Kennon).

We had lunch at "Old" McDonald's (as Jack calls it) at the birthday boy's request, despite Billy's attempts to convince him to go somewhere else. Some things never change - nothing makes a kid happier than a Happy Meal.

In the afternoon, we played with Jack's new t-ball set and then went to the park

Then Lulu, Buster and Uncle Peter came over for dinner and cake.

Jack was obsessed with opening presents as fast as he could. It was different than last year when he was focused solely on the act of ripping paper as his entertainment. This year, the urgency to shred anything that could remotely be construed as a paper product was still there but the destruction was more of a means to an end.

Here is Charlie in the aftermath...

He wanted to know what the presents were immediately. As soon as he had finished opening something, he tore right into something else. This possibly led to some hurt feelings on the part of the present-givers.

I should digress briefly to explain the unique history of gift exchange in our family. Historically, Christmas in my mother's family lasted for - I kid you not - three whole days. Only one gift was opened at a time, to a chorus of oohs and ahhs (referencing both the gift and the wrapping), followed by a half hour of modeling/trying on/trying out of said gift, another half hour while people went to get more food and booze, then the process would begin again. I have nothing but wonderful memories of our New York Christmases. Besides the obvious reason that being with your grandparents was super cool, at least half the time there was snow on the ground and, secondarily, my grandparents had Santa and Mrs. Claus figures that were as big as I was. Apparently my recollection is not entirely complete. My father likes to recount the story of how, during our last Christmas in New York, Peter (age 2) and I (age 6) literally died of boredom between the fifth and sixth rounds. From then on, Christmas morning was always spent in our own house. In the interest of honesty, we still open presents methodically, attentively, one at a time, but at least everything takes place during the course of one day. It's endearing, in an OCD kind of way.

So Jack's seeming indifference to his gifts was slightly confusing for my family. As it turned out, Jack just needed to open everything - all at once - in order to determine the priority of his acquisitions. Then he went back to survey all his new treasures, read his new books and play with his new toys.

The only hiccup in the evening occurred when I placed Jack's slice of cake (which he had very explicitly requested be vanilla with vanilla frosting and sprinkles) in front of him. He had a total conniption fit. Having spent far too long baking and decorating the damn thing, I almost had one myself. As it turned out, Jack simply objected to the fact that the cake was on its side, thus not properly showcasing the splendor of the sprinkles. Once the cake was righted and the top of the cake was indeed on top, harmony was restored to the Poynter household, saving me from having to take a handful of Valium and passing out on the floor.

Happy Birthday little nugget. No matter how old or "grown up" you are, you will always be our baby...