Yesterday my baby child turned 3! 3 whole, flipping years! It seems like yesterday I brought him home from hospital all tiny and sweet (now he asks me questions I can’t answer like, “If lions can’t talk, why can Raa-Raa, Mama?” Well Cbeebies, what have you got to say for yourself?
That young boy amazes me, challenges me, makes me realise my love for him (and his brother) is boundless and sometimes, quite frankly, he drives me up the wall with his tantrums and diva like behaviour! I don’t know who he takes after *cough.
Mostly we have major fun together though-you’ll often find us booty shaking in the living room to Beyonce or jumping up and down on the master bed (the latter him, more than me-get me near a bed and I spontaneously sleep) but pretty much everyday you’ll find us laughing at one another. The other day he told me he pooed on his teacher’s vagina. You see, he’s funny. Please don’t call social services.
To my little laugh maker Oliver, I love you tiny dude.