Crew turns THREE

I'm sitting here on the eve of your third birthday and... well, I'm getting a little weepy. It does not help that I am perusing through all your pictures. Three years worth. Sob. Fest.  I mean, just three short years ago... this is the face we were meeting for the first time. All ten whopping pounds of you.

And we fell in love instantly.

I mean, how could we not? You were just a bunch of sunshine all bundled up in squishy cheeks and thighs.

When the doctor told me about a month prior to your due date that you would most likely be between 9 and 10 lbs, I sat in the car and cried. I had just washed and put out all the newborn clothing that you would now not be fitting. In my overly hormonal mind, my baby (my last) would not be coming out a baby.

And nope. You decided to skip that newborn phase entirely. But newborn is overrated. And you were every inch my baby. Every squishy, healthy, beautiful ounce of you. And for three years, you have made life without you unimaginable.

I love the way you can charm the pants off of any soul.
I love the way you'll sometimes use a low husky voice.
I love the way you already have a strut. Very footballish. You own it well.
I love how when you're excited, your eyes get as big as saucers.

I love how you run into things on purpose or fake fall and then say, "I'm ok." It's all to get a laugh. I love that you love making people laugh.
I love that everyone at church knows your favorite word is poop. (No shame. #boymom)
I love your cheeks.

I love that you somehow make me laugh when you're getting in trouble. ["Crew Jones, you look at Mommy." Without missing a beat you say, "No, you look at Crew." I mean, come on. The pic below is funny. You're in timeout. But it's funny.]

 I love your love of hats.

I love that when brother went on vacation (where cell service was limited), the first person he wanted to talk to on the phone was you.

I love how you talk gibberish because you just have to have the attention but then realize you have nothing to say.
I love the way you say, "Wanna play wis me?"
I love that your favorite song is "How Sweet the Sound" (Citizens Way), but you won't let me sing it. Ever. "It's MY song," you say.
I love that you're a night owl and will come up with ridiculous excuses to stay up. (I sometimes just have to walk out of your room while you're talking. Otherwise, you'd keep me there all night.)
I love (and loathe) the way you won't eat any of my chicken (but if it's Chick-fil-a or Tyson, you'll down it like a champ).
I love that every day is an adventure for you. With you.

So from ZERO...

To ONE....

To TWO...

And now THREE (pic to be taken/posted tomorrow), we celebrate all of you, Crew Bean.Your laughs, your squeezes, your humor, your crazy, your rough-and-tumble, your friendliness, your silliness and your sweet little heart. We love you big.