the big bubba is 3

my bubba is three. he is racing to this milestone like one of his beloved trains on the island of sodor. if you don't know what that means then you don't have a three your old boy...

i can barely remember what i didn't know before there was him. barely... i remember there was a lot more quiet... a lot less drama.  a lot more conversation.. a lot less wrestling matches. he is blazing a trail in my heart and that trail is littered with words like...
"what were you thinking?"
"didn't i already tell you 17 times today not to do that?"
"please don't use your head as a weapon."
"i know you love your baby sissy but love should not make her cry."

he melts my heart though. the way he looks at me. the way he loves me... when he just wants me to hold him and stroke his hair and rub his back... i try so desperately to freeze those moments. tuck them away for the days i know are coming.
for these are sweet days.
these are the days he asks me to crawl up in his bed to sing and pray... and when he prays for me he thanks God that i'm feeling better... even though i was sick in october. :)

these are the days when he mispronounces everything...
hellabans = headbands...libarely = library...guvs = girls....eyeskeem= ice cream

these days hold no understanding of time for him. approximately 70% of mornings he greets me with a
"you make dinner now? i hungy."

these are the days his humor spills through his impish, uneven grin and surprises him with a laugh from his audience but then in his excitement he goes and overdoes it... and starts reaching for anything that might get that same laugh response such as ".. and then.. and then.. and then... the elephant said-- i will FIGHT you!" hmmm.. not as funny. :)

he is boy. he is passionate and hesitant. he is a clown and he is a stinker. he loves his trains and his sisters. he is a lover and a fighter. he is my boy.

it amazes me how this family... like sharp stones in the ocean... after year upon year of tumbling over each other...  we are smoothing each other's sharp corners.

grayson in the living room dancing to the nutcracker... taking full out creative license on being a rat king with a sword.  or sitting there plunking out a tune on his air guitar in his underwear, socks and a roman soldier helmet. wrestling wars, train extravaganzas...

when he is playing with you there is noise... there is contact. he hits you full out with the intensity of being his target of love. and that's okay.. that's better than okay... that's perfect.
my bubba has taught me how to love through the mountains and valleys. he is teaching me how to keep my head when all about me people are losing theirs... he brings me right to the edge and then he flashes me a dimple.... he has climbed up into my heart and holds a spot that is just for him...

i love you grayson patrick...

i will stay your target of love as long you'll let me. :)