In what is quickly becoming a tradition around these parts, I wanted to take a moment to mention my son Henry. Yesterday was his birthday and he turned 3 years-old.
I don’t talk about my kids in the blog, but I like the idea of writing about them on their birthdays. I have this vision where someday my kids will Google me and read all of the dumb crap I’ve written over the years. But then they find these articles about their birthdays and think “Hmm. Maybe the old man wasn’t such a jerk after all.”
One can hope.
I’m amazed that Henry is already 3 years-old. It’s cliche, but the time slips by so fast. I imagine time will only slip away faster and faster after this.
Henry is doing well these days, but, as always, he’s a handful. He’s constantly running around, banging his shins and begging to watch one of his “shows.” These days, that either means Wow Wow Wubbzy or Chuggington.
Henry is doing very well since Pearl was added to the mix three months ago. It’s safe to say he loves his baby sister. He constantly wants to look at her, hold her and give her kisses. Sometimes we have to ask him to knock it off. Henry’s sense of personal space hasn’t really formed yet. So he thinks nothing of running up to Pearl and patting her on the head while she’s sleeping. Such is life.
The big news in our house with Henry these days is potty training. At this point, he pretty much understands the mechanics of it. He can go to the potty, drop trou, do his business, button up and wash his hands by himself. The only trick is getting his legs to listen to his brain when it tells him “Bladder full!” or “Time to poop!” Henry is often fully engaged in whatever it is that he’s doing. So asking him to stop and take a break almost always results in a tantrum.
For his big day, Cami and decided to take Henry to Chuck E. Cheese and we couldn’t have been more thrilled with his behavior. It was fun to watch him wander around and take in all the sites. He was fascinated by every game, but had no idea how any of them worked. When we asked him if he wanted to play, he’d say “No!” in a sad tone that inferred “I don’t want to miss looking around at other things.” It wasn’t until about hour 3 that he kind of settled in and started playing on all the games and rides.
Late in the evening, exhausted after playing all night, Henry looked up at me and said sweetly, “Dad? Thank you for taking me to Chwuckee Cheeze.”
You could have knocked me over with a feather.
Happy birthday, Henry. I love you, buddy.
