Three

Dear Patrick,

Today you turn three years old, at exactly 4:17. With any luck you will ring in your birth moment a little more peacefully than you did three years ago, hopefully sleeping today. Even while you sleep through it, though, I'll notice it and remember for you.
These last three years have been a wild roller coaster ride. Each time it seems like things are settling down again, like we know what to expect from you, you surprise us again. For you, routines are made only to be changed. Lately, you have been all about school. Each day exists only to get you back to a school day, and you constantly talk about your teachers and friends at school. You beg all day long to "go see teacher," and your excitement can't be contained when I finally agree that yes, it is a school day.
School is teaching you far more than your colors and shapes, though. You are learning how to be social, how to be a good friend, and why we don't do mean things like throw and push. You are learning how to follow a set routine that isn't necessarily in your agenda and that the world doesn't revolve around you. We're finding these lessons you are attempting to learn at school are difficult to translate at home, so we've been struggling quite a bit over the last few weeks to help you transition between school and home--and to teach you that while the routines may differ, the same rules like no throwing and pushing still apply.
But school is helping you grow up--and fast. You are now actually playing with your brother, and he loves all the attention, even when it gets a bit too rough for him at times. I can already foresee the future months and years of the two of you wrestling. Just remember that it's quite likely he will end up with a size advantage over you before much longer, and you may regret starting the wrestling matches eventually. Still, it warms my heart to watch you play with your brother and how much you two enjoy each other's company.
You are learning compassion, too. I love to hear you ask me or Daddy or Gaga (whom you also call Na-hin sometimes now) in your little voice, "You okay?" You ask even when you're pretty sure there's nothing wrong. I guess you've picked that up from me and Daddy, but I'm glad it is one of the things you have chosen to repeat. It shows a sweet spirit underneath that stubborn exterior.

School is also starting to develop your language skills even further. Although I can tell your language is still behind that of your friends, you are starting to catch up. More and more you are talking in full sentences, and you attempt to tell me about your school day when you get home, even if it takes a little interpreting on my part. You readily repeat lots of words and phrases you hear Daddy and me say--unless, of course, we ask you to. I can't tell you how much I love getting to hear you chatter on at meals or our little snack time after school. Some of the things you say--like asking me to stay in your room this morning with you--make me feel more special than anything else you have done in your short life.
Even when you are fighting against us, you are so full of life. That is what tends to get you in trouble the most. You get so involved in playing or making a mess that you tune out all the warnings from me or Daddy and end up in time-out as a result. I'm finally starting to understand you, though, and your inability to be distracted from whatever activity you have in mind, even if it results in a punishment. It dawned on me yesterday that I am just as frustrated when people try to distract me once I have my mind set on doing something. I'm going to start working on patience with you in this area because it is how I would want people to deal with me. But I expect compromise, too; I can't be too patient with you when you are risking your safety or that of someone else, like your brother.
For example, last week as we were walking into school, you darted out in front of the car into the parking lot while I was still gathering all your school stuff from the car. I managed to catch you before you got too far, and there were thankfully no cars coming right then, but it scared me. Your inability to stop when I screamed your name, panicked, has haunted me ever since. I had numerous nightmares about you disappearing or getting hurt or worse all that night. As frustrated as we can get with you sometimes, I know part of me would die inside if I let anything like that happen to you.
Over the last three years you have certainly enriched our lives, much more than I ever thought possible. I won't lie and pretend it's always easy to be your parent--probably anyone's parent--but it's worth it. I am so entwined in your little fingers now that it would rip my heart out for anything to happen to you. In fact, it will rip my heart out each time you grow just a little more independent, like your first day of kindergarten and your first date and college. I just hope that you never grow too big and independent to stop being my sweet little boy, that you never grow up too much to refuse to give me a sweet kiss when you wake me up on Saturday mornings. Because kisses like that, and moments like that, are the ones that make up for every single frustrating one in between.

Patrick's ECI graduation yesterday

Love,

Mommy