Here’s what few people tell you about three:

It’s hard. It’s way worse than two.

It’s saying no and pushing boundaries. It’s meltdowns of epic proportions. It’s assertiveness, wanting more independence, and fighting bedtime. If two is terrible then three is a tornado.

Three doesn’t care. Three makes me want to lose my mind.

And here’s the but - - - three is wonder.

It’s asking why 567 times a day. It’s finding obsessions on the tiniest scales. It’s learning routines and what to expect. It’s finding joy in things I’d normally overlook. It’s having zero concept of time or money yet asking for more and less of each consistently.

Three is joy, passion, and fun. Three is something we all need a bit more of inside ourselves.

One day this boy won’t ask as many questions. He won’t drag out bedtime just for more snuggles. He won’t have meltdowns over what song is on the radio that I can’t control. My hugs may not fix problems at four, 11, or 27.

Three is about to leave our house and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t partially looking forward to it. I know I’ll always miss parts of three, of who he used to be.

But, y’all.

I can’t wait to see what three turns into.

This was originally published on Facebook.