Luke is three!

Dear Lukie Luke,

You are becoming such a big boy!  You hardly seem like my baby anymore.  You are a rough and tumble little guy with a sensitive and caring heart.

You are a Wii master.  You love to play everything from ping pong to golf but you are a champion sword fighter.  When you encounter real life situations, like an actual ping pong table, you get excited and say, "let's play Wii".  You also love to cheer your Daddy on when he is playing Wii Golf.  You know more about golf than I do.  You are always asking if it is birdie chance or an eagle.  (I have no idea what those things mean.) 


You love to wear your Superman pajamas, finger paint and pretend that you are a baby jaguar.  You watch Dora, Diego and Team Umizoomi.  You are smart.   Puzzles are your thing and you are good at them.  You can count to twenty.  You enjoy comparing things and identifying colors. You are so proud of yourself when you do your "chore" (putting the silverware away).


You have really come out of your shy shell this year.  You can be stubborn.  When the swimming teacher told all the little Nemos to get into the water on the first day of class you stood on the side of the pool and screamed, "I am a shark, not a fish!"  (You never did get into the water.)

You are cool.  You have mad rhythm and love music.  You walk with a cool little strut when you are feeling your best.  You have a smile that lights up the room.

You still sleep with your paci and silky and refuse to give up your diapers no matter how cool the underwear offered might be.


You need to cuddle.  You can often be heard saying, "Pease cuddle me?" or "I need YOU!"  It is usually directed at Mommy.  And you love your Mama.  You want to "marry me and kiss me at the movies" and you are not the least bit embarrassed when your bother teases you about it.  You like to "be" Mommy when you play Wii.  When you win something you come and find me so that I can go see that "I" won. 


You like to play rough with your brothers, but only so much.  You and Grant flop down on the couch repeatedly, laughing like crazy.  However, you can't stand to see pictures of Grant's birth.  First you get angry and march out of the room and then you cry.  You play well with baby Grant but, after a while, you  get tired of him hitting you and pulling your hair or sharing your toys.  You are willing to play with him in the "baby" section of the child care center at the gym so that he doesn't cry.  You want to do everything that your big brother does, but he pokes at you and makes you angry a lot. You are rarely the start of any altercation.  When you do get mad, you call everything "fat".  "Jackson is fat."  "That book is fat."

I'm so blessed to have your sweet soul in our family.  I am so grateful for your gentle personality.  You are the calm amidst the chaos.

With loads of love,

Mommy