The boys turned three years old the past week. It’s amazing how quickly we reached this milestone and how much has happened in that time. Day-to-day I don’t notice them growing, but then suddenly I’ll look over and realize my babies are crawlers, then walkers, then talkers, toddlers and now so big.
Oliver and Eli, my sweet, incredible boys. You are both fun and joyful and are growing up better than I could have hoped when you were born and I was clueless in the parenting department. We teach each other something every day. Oliver, you are still my mischievous monkey, who is so intelligent and gets into everything. You are caring and curious and devour books, puzzles and anything technological (my phone and computer are still off limits though…). You also hate tomatoes, melons and going to bed, but you smile every morning and give everyone you love multiple hugs and take ten minutes to say goodbye to anyone. Eli, my happy monster, you are my smiling, loving, rambunctious cuddler. You are obsessed with anything that moves – cars, trains, planes, the works – and always want to run faster, swing higher and go down the tallest slide. You will try any kind of food at least once, and sing, dance, and clap along whenever there’s music (you request Old MacDonald, Amazing Grace, and For The First Time every night and try your best to turn it into a half hour signathon before the lights go out).