These days we are doing all we can to soak up all of the magic of our handsome little threenager, Spencer. Sure, I'll admit that 3 is the new 2, and tantrums and general craziness certainly abound on at least a daily basis. But, 3 is also the age where an overwhelming amount of growth and progress are made each and every day, and it is an astonishing and wonderful sight to behold.
I think it helps that Spencer was a late talker and so every thing that he is able to say and express at this late age still feels very new and special. (I have a sneaking suspicion that the magic and wonder of this age had already somewhat worn off with our little Alexa, who had been talking pretty clearly and consistently since about 2. Now, at 6, she just talks like an adult. And empties the dishwasher like a boss.) Every sentence of Spencer's still feels really awesome to hear, and we are constantly amazed at the way that he can finally express himself after so many months of not being able to articulate what he needed. (And crying in frustration instead.)
Add all of this to the fact that he is our youngest child, whose fading babiness we are struggling to soak up each day, and maybe you can understand why our hearts melt a little bit when he asks for just about anything. Often he sounds a little too demanding at first and I have to remind him to ask more nicely, at which time he revises his request with, "Mommy, can I have (insert 3-year-old desire here) pleeeeeeease?" I know. It's ridiculous. But it totally works.
We recently upgraded his blankie size due to cold feets. The air conditioning keeps his bedroom at refrigeration levels of cold, so every time his blankets slip off in the middle of the night, instead of putting them back on, he comes into our room to report, "Daddy, my feets cold," so that he can get tucked back in. We thought a bigger blanket might curb the problem and pave the way for some solid sleep for these tired parents, but it doesn't seem to have helped. And, we even break our cardinal parental rule from time to time and let him get in bed with us occasionally. (At which time he picks a snuggle buddy--usually Craig--who then does not sleep well for the rest of the night, or until Spence gets carried back to his own bed. So much for not spoiling the baby of the family.)
"It doesn't smell yucky, Mommy!"
Other fun phrases include:
"Argh! Mommy, it's keep on doing!" This means that something (anything from a watch to a racecar) is not doing exactly what he wants it to, and "it's keep on doing" something to annoy him instead.
"Mommy (or Daddy, or grandma, or Julia, or anyone), I lub you." This happens several times a day. And it makes my heart swell every time.
"Jus' a little bit? For my birthday?" He holds his tiny little fingers about half an inch apart up to his eye to show how small of a favor (or snack, or whatever else) he is asking for. Then he mentions his birthday, which was four months ago, just for good measure. This one doesn't usually work, but it has become a Monson family catch phrase.
"Please? It's really good!" He expertly used this one to procure a Batman costume from Costco two months before Halloween. When he saw that my initial firm "no" was wavering and I was about to cave, he really put on the pressure. "Please, Mommy? It's really good! I promise, Mommy. Pleeeeeeaese??"
Well, I had hope that these tales would, many years hence, be the source of fond memories of Spencer's three-year-old cuteness and adorable little voice. Now I'm wondering if we'll look back at this time and say, "Yep. That must have been when things really started to go wrong."
Time will tell. But for now I am just going to love on him and smooch on him and hug on him and hope that I don't give in to his whims too, too often.
