I love age three. It's maddening and hilarious, defiant and loving, whiny and winsome, all at the same time. Gavin is blossoming at this age, showing off his developing personality while still desperately caring what his Mommy and Daddy think. The wheels of logic are turning in his head and he asks amazing questions and makes funny observations. Here are just a few of the gems he came up with this week.
"Mommy, Avery is really cute. How much did she cost?" When I explained that Avery didn't cost anything, that God gave her to us, he said, "But how could he carry such a little tiny baby?"
Recently I admonished Gavin, "We don't need to joke around about hitting people." (Something he likes to talk about a lot, with no action.) He replied, "Oh, Avery will be talking about that in no time, lady."
Age three is apparently also the time for imagination to emerge. My son has taken the Christmas and Easter stories to heart and runs around the house pretending he is Jesus about to be thrown in prison by Roman soldiers. He insists that we call him Jesus and sits on his "throne" under the covers of our bed. It feels a little blasphemous to call my son Jesus, so I admit I call him "pretend Jesus." Ha!
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