Everyone tells me three is worse than two, if you're using terribles as the unit of measurement. It's true, sometimes. But oh my, when it's good, this three-year-old thing is really good.
So grateful this weekend for
giant cardboard boxes that turn into weekend-long mural projects
the miracle of crossing the potty training threshold
the fact that he finally, finally speaks the English language
the discovery that, like his mama, Ez is a lyrics person. (thump, thump)
Also, while I'm on the magic of three, let me say just how comfortable it feels to be a family of three. And how grateful I am to finally feel that clarity. Here we are, a small, sturdy love triangle, ready to take on the world.