My first baby, my boy, my Chazzy, is 3 years old. He is goofy, feisty at times, sweet when he wants to be. He runs, jumps, knocks things over. He smells like a dirty little boy, even after a bath.
He thinks he is Spiderman and is always shooting Spidey webs at us. The sweatshirt you see in these photos . . . I think we're 10 days straight on wearing it.
Three. Three years ago I was pushing him into the world. Scared, excited, overwhelmed. I couldn't begin to imagine him at 3 years old.
But here we are. Three. Not yet potty trained and refuses to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. But that's how he has been his whole short life. He does it in his own time, on his terms. A major streak of independence has hit him. Everything he tries on his own and we can not assist.
His 3rd birthday was spent at a park in Seal Beach. Watching my baby run and climb and jump. Watching time fly by.