And so Charlie has been with us for 156 weeks. Three full years. This is the third time I’ve watched a son cross over from age two to age three and the 17th total birthday celebration for one of my kids, which is a number that absolutely staggers me even though it should come as no surprise.
What also should come as no surprise is that even though Charlie’s birthday was Thursday, it took an extra 48 hours or so for me to get the quiet time needed to reflect on his big day. Isaac has been a little more difficult than usual the past two nights, deciding he’d only sleep longer than a few minutes if he was physically touching one of his parents. Delightful.
(Did I say 48 hours? Ha! That turned into a week. Who knew life with four children ages newborn to nine would be busy?)
Having a baby in the house when one son turns three is old hat for us, since Max’s third birthday was less than a month after Charlie’s birth. Yet for some reason I did not spend much time Thursday, if any, thinking back to the day Charlie was born. In a way this was the perfect year to do so since we’ve gotten slammed by snowfall much like we did a few days before Charlie arrived. But a lot of my delivery room thoughts remain with the actual baby, and for Charlie I’ve been doing a lot more reflecting on his last twelve months.
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| He helped make his birthday cake. It was chocolate. |
Looking at the hundred or so pictures I chose for his birthday slideshow, I’m just thrilled to see such a happy little guy. His smile is contagious, his eyes deeply expressive and his hugs practically transformative in their ability to positively adjust my outlook on life. In the time it took me to get around to continuing this writing he managed to nearly perfect potty training. In fact, he’s upstairs right now asleep and not in a diaper. When the third baby rolls over? Not all that groundbreaking. When the diapers go away? I’m telling EVERYONE and don’t be late for the parade.
The intent here is to try to use words to capture the essence of Charlie at three, but for some reason the only one I keep coming back to is fun. He’s simply delightful to be around. Most of our one-on-one time involves my weekly grocery shopping trips, which he rarely lets me attempt alone. We talk in the car, through each store, never about anything in particular but always completely engaging. He relishes being called my little helper monkey, and if I get too far ahead of myself it’s crushing to think about a time when he’ll do everything he can to avoid running errands and getting hugs and kisses each time he gets in and out of the car.
Our other primary dad-and-lad ritual, at least for the bulk of the last year, is bedtime. He’s become very particular about the proper order of things (brush teeth, then take a bath) as well as which pair of pajamas he’ll wear and which three or four books I read while he sits in my lap, his left hand on his belly button and two fingers form his right hand in his mouth, occasionally popped out in order to proclaim an animal sound or explicate the goings-on of a particular page.
He is, like most little brothers, a perpetual “me too” candidate. He spends all morning playing with Max while Jack is at school. When the big boys are upstairs or downstairs with video games or who knows what else, Charlie bounces between their fun and a parental unit. Sometimes because he’s been made sad over not getting to fully join, other times because he just likes to check in with us. He’s generally not physically aggressive, but he is very stern when he trumpets, “Max, you are making me angry!”
He likes to eat chocolate chip granola bars because I have one for breakfast each morning. He’ll turn up his nose at dinner if he can convince Jack to portion out some extra noodles and broth. His favorite food used to be whatever was on Kristie’s plate, but by now that’s generally only valid for desserts. (Quote of the year candidate: “Hey mom! What you eat? I eat some dat?”) But, like Max, he also has a soft spot for the right kinds of fresh fruit and vegetables. We’re still seeing some vestiges of the doctor-ordered approach back from his gaining-no-weight days in late 2011, which amounted to, “If he’ll eat it, let him have it, no questions asked.” But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in nearly a decade as a dad, it’s to expect and embrace change.
I was looking at a picture of our family from the fall of 2011, when we visited our old college for Homecoming ten years after I graduated. That’s when Charlie was the baby and Max was three (and a half). Somehow Max being on the cusp of six is way more of a stumper than Charlie shifting into Max’s spot to make room for Isaac as the baby. As such, I can’t possibly comprehend how much different Charlie might seem when I sit down to write a companion piece to this in 2017.
Nor do I want to, really. It’s awfully cliché to claim “the days and weeks last forever while the years fly by,” and I’m not entirely certain it’s true. I’m trying my hardest to be fully invested in these crucial years of each boy’s life, in part so I can later say, “I know where the time went! I was there every step of the way.” Surely (hopefully!) some day I’ll be absolutely gobsmacked when I realize just how big and old they all are. We’re already bracing ourselves to be gobsmacked by our upcoming grocery bills, to say nothing of where we’re going to put all the shoes and don’t get me started on how big a car we’ll have to pilot.
But in the meantime, we can have all sorts of fun with Mr. Charlie. There are puzzles to complete, church songs to sing, beaters to lick and bubbles to blow. It takes a little extra time to get dressed each morning because he has to pick out the right shirt. We have to try to leave the house earlier than needed because shoes must be put on just so. (Quote of the year candidate: “Let me I do it!”) We are wise to avoid lengthy drives after 2 p.m. because the unavoidable car naps can wreak havoc on bedtime. But none of it would be worth trading away if it meant even one less embrace from the world’s best little hugger.
I might always wonder how Charlie’s personality would be different if he remained the baby of the family. But I’ll never for a second regret bringing home his little brother. In fact, he was perhaps the most welcoming of any of us to the new addition, and if there’s any reason for me to be excited for the kids to get bigger it’s the chance to watch Charlie introduce Isaac to the pack. Earlier I said I couldn’t get away from the word fun, and with good reason. But it might be more suited to just say Charlie is all about love. It fairly well seeps out of his pores. I guess I hope that’s because he’s soaking up what we give him and letting it out with each squeeze. But even if I had nothing to do with the little person he’s become, I still can’t help but smile thinking about how much I treasure such a special little dude.
This is going to be another great year.
