Happy (almost) Birthday

Three (In Six Days)

In six days,
you will be three.

Which feels impossible,
because you were just a baby,
and also because you are already
a small tornado with opinions.

You wake up curious.
You go to sleep curious.
Everything in between is a negotiation.

You want to help.
You need to help.
You insist on helping in ways
that make the task objectively worse.

You carry things too big for your arms,
spill things that were previously contained,
and proudly announce,
“I did it!”
even when “it” is unclear
and the outcome is questionable.

Some days you are a builder—
lining up robots,
fixing invisible problems with imaginary tools,
pressing buttons that definitely do something important.

Other days you are pure destruction—
testing gravity,
testing patience,
testing whether the dog really does mind
being gently ridden like a horse.

You are chaos with a conscience.
A helper with no off switch.
A scientist running experiments
with snacks, volume, and parental limits.

You ask why
until the universe itself runs out of answers.
Then you ask why again,
just to be sure.

You are giggles at the wrong moment,
tears at the most confusing one,
and sudden calm that makes us suspicious.

You resist bedtime like it’s a personal betrayal.
You resist pants on principle.
You resist being told no
unless it was your idea first.

You love robots.
You love buttons.
You love things that beep, spin, crash,
or can be taken apart and maybe reassembled.

You love being included.
You love being useful.
You love being in charge
even when you absolutely should not be.

You are gentle and wild,
careful and reckless,
sweet and stubborn—
sometimes all at once.

You are teaching us patience
we didn’t know we needed,
and joy we didn’t know could be this loud.

In six days, you will be three.
But really,
you’ve already been three for a while now—
curious, chaotic, hilarious,
and exactly who you’re supposed to be.

Happy almost birthday,
you wonderful little mess. 🎂✨