One, two, THREE!!!

Gee is my December baby. Born up at the University of Utah hospital the day after a huge snowstorm. Whisked away through the NICU window before anyone could hold him or count his fingers and toes. Two hours later, they stopped by my room to let me caress his little head and hands before they transported him through the hallways over to Primary Children's Hopsital.

I got to "hold" him for the first time the next morning. He was scheduled for surgery the morning after that, 36 hours old.

Then

Now

And now look at you, Gee. Three and loving life. Getting into everything. Walking and scooting and talking (up a storm), and getting ready for preschool in January. When I first asked you if you were going to school, you said, "No! I don't go to school!" in tones of "don't be silly, Momma!" Now, when I ask, you say, "Yes! With Mrs. M!" (Only instead of saying Mrs. M you actually say the teacher's name.)

You'll be riding the bus, because it will teach you independence. Which completely weirds Momma out, because I simply can't imagine my little boy in school and riding a bus. But this is the way you'll get your physical therapy, and start dealing with other kids. It'll be good for both of us.

On your birthday, at first you went around answering the question "How old are you?" with a bright and cheery "FOUR!" Eventually I convinced you that "three" was the answer. And--finally--you got your own trike. Yay! After riding around the house for a minute or two (the snow and cold outside precluded taking the trike out), you promptly flipped it over and sat on it, upside down, happy as a clam to "paddle" your "boat".


The big box that came on your birthday (not filled with anything for you), transformed into a fort, was a marvelous birthday present as well.


That night we went up to Grandma and Grandpa's. You graciously let Zee and Em help you start to unwrap the presents, but by golly, it was YOUR birthday, and you were going to finish them. All.


I love you so much, my Gee. I love the way you shout, "You're home, Momma, you're home!" every time I walk in from being outside. I love the way you say, "I need Momma!" I love that, if a TV show gets a little intense, you shout at the top of your lungs, "What's going to happen?? What's going to happen???" I love your beautiful bright smile, your love for Daddy and siblings, and your sweet, tender spirit.


Most of all, I just really love you, boyo. Happy birthday!