Tonight The Boy goes to sleep being three years old for the last time. I'm not even going to offer you the cliche I'm thinking. Shortly before bedtime he managed to really break the already broken plastic sword - a flashing affair from Christmas last year. Tears and incomprehensible vocab followed.
Now in my head I'm thinking I've suggested to Granny to get him a knight's outfit, he'll get a new sword tomorrow. So I try that tack... 'Well whose birthday is it tomorrow? What might be waiting for you tomorrow?' Luckily he was too distracted by his own melancholy to take any notice of what I was saying. More mumbled, snotty incomprehensibles were uttered. During which time, I managed to stop myself saying the words: 'A brand spanking new sword'.
His ongoing tears left me to bide my time. There's a chance the outfit doesn't come with a sword, or that Granny decided on something else entirely. I had to decide to take the tears on the chin now, rather than suffer more tomorrow amidst deep disappointment. Then, a light bulb moment! What is required here is a blatant lie!
'Sweetheart, shall I take the sword to the sword hospital?' This got his attention. His wailing ceased and he looked at me sincerely.
'Do you think you can fix it?'
No 'I can try' I claimed.
I removed the item, hopeful in the knowledge of perhaps not a new sword, but enough distractions to remedy the upset and cause complete failure to recall the incident.
There's a lot I'm going to miss about The Boy being three. His mini machoisms and him telling me off for quarrelling with Baby Girl - she started it! But reasoning with him, based on no actual reasoning at all, has been an entertaining and thankful pastime. Please let it continue a little bit longer.
Today we will be mostly... playing Tickle Tower. Stacking up a tower of pots and protecting it with tickles - good game, good game.
These are now being updated daily, so pop back if you're looking for more inspiration over the holidays. Rain rain go away, come again... is November good for you?