Three is a hard age.
I find it a little harder than the "terrible two's."
Our precious three year old has a mind of his own.
He knows what he wants.
He is a tad bossy.
And occasionally a bit aggressive to little brother.
I find myself repeating myself way too often.
And I'm hopeful it is all just a stage.
One of those new stages that they enter and leave faster than I can barely blink.
Like smiling for the first time.
Or learning how to roll over, crawl, stand, walk, etc.
They all seem like just yesterday.
Regardless of these hard things, or days, that we may have,
I find myself missing my little three year old when he goes to bed.
His loud and infectious giggle.
His helpful nature.
The hilarious things he says.
His wild imagination.
The enormous amount of energy.
His love for all things new and exciting.
He keeps me on my toes.
I like it.
And I love him.
Like, a lot!