February 12, 2016

Happy three my guy!

I write this drinking wine to toast the eve of your birth (or just because actually I like wine and drink it most nights) surveying the mountain of plastic crap I am putting off wrapping. You need none of it but you’ll love all of it – and we really, really need a bigger house.

And so you go from toddler to little boy. You’ve shot up this year, your chubby cheeks have narrowed out, personality is appearing by the bucket load and words keep tumbling from your mouth with increasing complexity – and immaturity.

Everything is ‘poo’ including me, you have taken to calling me ‘Mummy poo’ which is err… endearing?! One of your favourite things to do is to take a song and change one of the words in it to fecal matter…

‘Let it poooo, let it poooooooo, can’t hold it back anymooooore!’

I shouldn’t laugh but it’s hard not to when you get it so right. I also shouldn’t laugh when you parp whilst sitting on my lap and say ‘Mummy I did a fart on you!’ and giggle. This is life with a house full of boys and I love it.

In the last few months we’ve said goodbye to nappies, the buggy is a dying trend and you stand tall next to your big bro, crossing swords for your standing up wees. Everything is happening so much faster this time around because you have a five year old idol to look up to.

There are certain elements of your grown-upness I’m a little reluctant to embrace, Cbeebies doesn’t really get a look in so you are already into Batman and Star Wars and know words like ‘die‘ and ‘gun.’ When you come at me with with a spoon and shout ‘I kill you Mummy!’ I can’t help but thinking It might be better if you were obsessed with Postman Pat like your brother was at your age (and I really, really don’t like that absolute cretin of a postman).

But there are many ways that you are so very different to him too. Whilst he’s Mr. Outdoorsy you’re my little homebody, not caring much for the winter cold. That’s ok with me, cuddles on the sofa whilst watching Kung-Fu Panda beats hours braving the park any day.

At three you are making friends and learning to put your own clothes on. You like eating piles of broccoli but hate chips (strange child). You love toddler groups, loading the washing machine and pulling the dishwasher trays in and out so you can see how the rollers work (a future mechanic?). Your disgusting stinky sheep comforter rarely leaves your side and you repeatedly ask me to attach my handbag strap to the label in your jumper so you can pretend to be a dog!

You don’t like milk on your cereal, messy hands, eating on something that’s not your yellow plate or bowl, sandwiches, getting taken out of the bath and just generally having to go to bed. Ever. I still have to sit with you in the dark, my hand across your body, waiting for you to go to sleep you cheeky bugger!

But I don’t really mind because I love you.

I love the way you continue to mispronounce words that I just can’t bring myself to correct – bthuses (buses), morging (morning) and ‘luths you’ (love you) all sound like better versions to me.

I love the way you have the confidence to go up to teenagers in the park tell them your name, offer them a bread stick and talk about how fast you can go on your scooter.

I love the way you can say ‘Awright darlin?’ in the best cockney accent I have ever heard.

I love your superhero poses, your ninja moves and the relationship you are finally starting to develop with your brother (apart from when you smash up his carefully constructed lego creations in a crazy rage about something totally insignificant).

I love the fusty way you smell, a bit like wee and cabbages, which sounds kind of gross but it’s not – because it’s you.

I even love the way you invade our bed at 3am every night. Your body is just the right size, small enough to play a super snuggly little spoon yet robust enough to elbow us in the face if we squish you.

A few months back we lost you at a country fayre. I turned my back for mere seconds and you were gone. It’s not unusual for you to bolt but I’ve always found you a minute or two later. This time it was 20 minutes, It felt like a lifetime and my mind went to very dark places. Eventually you were found. You’d left the fayre, walked down the road and were at the entrance of the car park.

‘I bet he was glad to see you!’ everybody said. No. You didn’t give a rats arse did you my super chatty confident little man? I ran down to get you and saw you laughing with the security guys, not a care in the world! Never ever scare me like that again because we could not live without the ragey, loveable, irritating, cuddly, stinky little ball of you.

We like you a lot. We like everything. Bad bits and all, we’ll keep you just the way you are.

Happy 3.



P.S. I have a new book OUT NOW! You can nab it on Amazon here or in your lovely local bookshop :)


36 thoughts on “On the day you turn three

    1. Holly fisher

      Number 3? Ohh go on…. My oldest is 5, youngest is 3. But starting school this year (summer baby) can’t shake the crazy idea that number 3 is on the cards…. #icantdoitwithoutyou

  1. Gem

    Gorgeous post. My baby boy is not far off 3.5 now and I relate to so much of what you wrote. He won’t part with his nappies though. Sadly I can’t cross swords with him so I’ll continue to try and bribe him with ice-lollie (his favourite currency). Hope he has a happy birthday.

  2. Camilla

    With a nearly 3 year old and nearly 5 year old, SO much of this rings true. The “I’m going to kill you stinky poo mummy” line makes me feel a bit reassured. Pleased I’m not the only one!

    Getting a “I’ve missed you mummy, I really luff you” after a long day at work makes it all ok.

    Boys are gross but can also melt your heart so instantly that I can see past the fact my house smells like an old people’s home. And will do for the next ten years, before it smells like a rugby club’s changing room!

  3. Louise

    Thank you so much for sharing the story about the fayre. About a month ago my 18 month old boy managed to open the front door which I hadn’t locked, I didn’t realise until a minute or so later and I found him running down the road towards a 40mph road. Although I found him safe and sound I lay awake for nights thinking “what if” imagining him getting hit by a car etc. absolutely awful and still makes me want to cry thinking about it. You can’t take your eyes off them.

  4. Amy

    I’ve just read this with tears rolling down my cheeks empathising every little step. You sleep on my chest, I love your smell, you mould into my neck I actually can’t breathe! I want you in our bed I don’t want you in our bed. You love me, I love you, you suck your thumb and ohay with my wedding rings. I love you x

  5. ZOe C

    Turning three is a corker. You summed it up brilliantly, beautifully and accurately, especially with the -heart stopping little bugger has wandered off and whilst you are dismissing visualising your world collapsing they are whistling a merry tune telling you to pull yourself together- moment. Thanks.

  6. DotcomDiva

    Awwwh, so well written! That’s EXACTLY what life with a three year old feels like. Made me well up a teensy bit, just couldn’t help it… Happy birthday, little stinker :-)

  7. Nikki

    Oh. My. Lord. This makes my heart ache for the 5 year old and 3.5 year old squatters asleep in our bed. I clearly have no care for my own safety or life and I’m off to wake them immediately to smother them in kisses and drink in their sweaty, wind tinged stench. <3 x

  8. LauraG

    Too much wine and crying at your post. My littlest turned 3 in November and he’s s cheeky smelly ball of anger but I wouldn’t change a thing!! Happy 3! X

  9. marie tonkin-couch

    Oh my god – you have described my 3year old! He too has an older brother who is 6. We can relate to almost everything especially the poo talk, the destruction of lego, the tooting and brotherly scrapes, all the avengers/ninja and gun moves. He is a handful, full of life but adorable at the same time. Together with his brother they make us laugh n cry!

  10. Badjelly

    Cabbages…..my kid bruv til he was 13 and discovered Hai Karate.Still my best mate, though….and the best ‘unkill’ to my gals.

  11. Sam

    Love this! I don’t need to write down things to remember about my own 3 year old because he’s exactly like yours – younger brother to a big bro who won’t countenance CBeebies, so his cultural references are Ninja Turtles and PowerRangers, leading to inappropriate announcements that “I kick your face”. He also loves to have a lead attached and crawl around being a dog, though sometimes he’s a cat, which is my favourite as it mostly involves curling up on the sofa. The only real difference is that, just in the last 2 weeks, he’s finally decided he can get to sleep alone and I don’t need to sit with my arm trapped under his neck until he drops off. I’m glad of that, but also glad he still comes in to our bed about 3am, just like yours (though only allowed in after he’s done a wee, after a few too many wet patches in our bed!), as I’ll really miss my little hot water bottle when he’s too big to come in for snuggles. xx

  12. Jason

    I read this and it made me reach over and give my boy a big squeeze and kiss. He responded by screaming “yeerrrrk, get off daddy”, which was kind of perfect…

  13. Katie @mummydaddyme

    Such a gorgeous post lovely. He sound similar to LL in many ways, including the weird obsession with having no milk on her cereal, smelling slightly funky and also being far too obsessed with super heroes! Happy birthday to him. xx

  14. Suzanne3Childrenandit

    Love, love, love this post. Cabbages and wee? I think that’s pretty standard with boys. Mine always used to smell of stale spit and whilst it was a bit gross, I loved it because it was him. Know just what you mean. Happy birthday little man! X

  15. Laura wilson

    Ah this is so sweet I hope he had a good birthday :) I live the mispronounced words so much I get so annoyed when people correct my son! Oh accept when he’d shout COCKS and point at clocks, that one got corrected x

  16. Jess Paterson

    Ah this is so cute, Katie! He sounds so like my little three year-old, except for the chips bit. Mine loves the chips. I love them at this age, much more tantrum-y and cheeky than two I fine but I just find their ridiculousness funny. Mine is the same – with two big brothers I have to beg him to watch CBeebies rather than Power Rangers Jungle Fury – the worst programme of all time. Apart from Topsy and Tim, Postman Pat…oh well, you know the list ;) xx

  17. Kalsoum

    Wow I’m happy to have stumbled upon this blog… so blooming relatable …love it!! This is the first post I’ve read so far and boy can I see and feel every bit of it lol xxx

  18. Clare

    This is such a sweet post and I totally relate to it. Parenthood is the most wonderful thing and it is lovely to see you enjoying it so much.


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