Beth Smith Photography

Dear Cole,

Today you are 36 months old.

It’s tempting, when doing these little retrospectives, to focus entirely on the things I’ve done wrong over the course of the year, because sometimes it really seems like parenthood is just one long, embarrassing slideshow of missteps and questionable judgment calls. Like, should your father and I have made up our own inappropriate lyrics to the majority of the TV shows you watch? Probably not, because sometimes I’ll hear you singing our adult versions. And maybe, just maybe, we should have paid closer attention to when something would frustrate us, because “DAMNIT” is now part of your ever-growing vocabulary. We should have had the foresight to know that even though you weren’t talking when we started doing that, one day you WOULD start talking and it would come back to bite us in the butt.

This year marked a lot of changes for you. The biggest one happened to be the birth of your baby sister, Camryn. Since we only had a short 9 months to prepare you for a 18 years worth of changes, your father and I did everything we could to offset the typical “What do you mean I’m no longer the only one vying for your attention” meltdown. When you walked into my hospital room the day after I had Camryn, you immediately were very curious about the tiny, wiggly, grunting buddle of blankets. Of course the second she started crying, your face looked like we had just tossed your favorite toy to the dog to chew on. “Why is baby crying,” you asked, and I told you that Camryn was hungry and ready to eat. You took a second to process my response and then looked right at me and said “Give her chicken nuggets!” I knew right then and there that even though we had done nothing to prepare you for this day, everything was going to be ok. You are quite an amazing big brother to your sister, and I’m completely aware that this won’t always be the case because she will get bigger and want to touch your things, but for the time being it is amazing to watch you with her. Sometimes when you think I’m not looking, you’ll stop whatever you’re doing, walk over to her, give her a kiss, and whisper “I love you, Cami-girl.”

Your father and I have become quite the team this year, and not just because we’re here in the trenches together, dodging your “NO” bombs and relentless whining gunfire. I see how much he loves you, and how he looks at me when you do something funny so that we can both share that brief moment together. And some nights after we put you to bed and settle down to watch something other than Blues Clues or Dora, your father and I will talk to each other in your voice, and repeat something ridiculous you have said during the day.  We like to consider doing that cheap therapy.  

Just in case some day you want to look back at this time in your life, here are a couple quirks that make you, well….you.

When someone asks you what your name is, you always tell them “Cole SMIFF”

You play a mean air guitar, and most recently learned how to throw up your rock fist.

If I would let you, you would eat Chick-Fil-A everyday. Instead, I lie and tell you that Chick-Fil-A is closed—and you believe me.

I’m sure one of these days you are going to figure out that in order to make a profit, Chick-Fil-A has to be open more than one day per week.

You have a gazillion books on your shelf, but prefer to hear “The Gingerbread Boy” over and over again.

You have no interest in the potty except to stand on it.

You call blueberries, grapes and grapes, blueberries.

I have to bribe you to let me take your picture.

You are obsessed with shoes.

You ask us over and over again what certain things are, even though you already know the answer—Yeah, you can stop that at anytime.

Your best friend is named Cole too, but you call him by his full name—Cole Laird.

You think every bump or bruise requires a band-aid.

You are thoughtful and caring, and you constantly amaze your father and I everyday.

You are our Coley-oly.

Happy 3^rd birthday my sweet baby boy.

All the Love in the Universe,

Mommy