This mom thing keeps me thoughtful.

In the last two weeks, my three year old has made shocking strides. His vocabulary has exploded. His maturity has lept ahead. He's potty trained. He's tall. He's sensitive and thoughtful. He's also crazy, happy, and now verbalizes how he's feeling.

I have to keep reminding myself that the poor kid is still just three years old. I see him, and he feels older to me. Tonight, he talked about the reflection of the night light. That's the kind of thing he's noticing and commenting on.

It's not all good, though. My mind is fooling me and suddenly my expectations are a bit skewed. I reasonably explain that it's past bedtime and we can't read a book. In a classic three year old way, he covered his eyes and cried in disappointment. I admit, I somewhat impatiently put him into bed with ice cream smeared on his chin and tears in his eyes. I'd love to wake him, wipe his face, whisper a nighttime lullaby, and hug his warm sleepy three year old self. I'm going to endeavor to remember the sweet three year old tomorrow.

And read him a very good book.