To My Big Boy,
I hate that I call you that now...because you're not a big boy at all.
You're only 3 years old...you're little more than a baby....but when you're suddenly catapulted to the rank of Oldest Of 3 Boys it seems as though that's what everybody starts to refer to you as...and I followed suit.
Sometimes I worry that I've rushed you too much.
That I treat you and think of you as if you're a much older boy than you really are.
That because you had two younger siblings come along in such quick succession, that you've been robbed of your own babyhood.
How many 3 year olds can say that they haven't taken a ride in a buggy for well over a year...
That they came out of their cot and into a "Big boy bed" at 20 months old.
That they share their mummies and daddies with not just one little sibling, but two of them already...
Because of all of these things, it's easy to forget how very little you still are.
You act so much older than your years, and you're such a wise little thing.
And sometimes, when you're feeling sad and throwing a bit of a tantrum...I find myself losing patience too quickly, as though you should be more in control of your emotions somehow...
Because sometimes I forget.
I forget that you're barely out of nappies.
That you still love your dummies so much and are so very reluctant to part with them.
That you love to be "cuddled in" at night time, and to come through to mummys bed for cuddles sometimes.
That you still can't pronounce your F's properly.
That you are really, truly still just a baby....the oldest of 3 babies of mine yes...but a baby nonetheless.
Not a big boy after all...simply the biggest of three very very little ones.
I'm sorry if I've been rushing you sweetheart...let's take our time from now on.
Lots Of Love, Mummy xx
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