I'm not sure why, but he started calling himself "little fishy" and me, "mommy fishy" about a month or so ago. He's going through a push and pull phase of wanting to still be little, but also wanting to be Big at the same time. He wishes he could go to camp and ride on the big rides like his older brother, but he also wants to be held and cooed over, still (thank goodness). Most of the time he has to do everything by himself and if we intervene in any way it's an automatic do-over, closing and opening things, tucking himself in, reaching for things, putting things away, so everything takes twice as long to get done these days. Alex keeps reminding me we will be happy about this fierce independence, later.
They say that with every child you are a different parent, and I completely believe it. I often feel a bit guilty that my oldest got the short end of the parental stick as I was probably wound a bit tighter during those first-time-mom years, coupled with the fact he was given his own set of challenges right out of the womb. Then always having to be the perennial guinea pig and the first to test the waters seeing if mom and dad can keep up, sink or swim. I hope often enough we kept him afloat.
So surely the littlest one has reaped the benefits of having two seasoned parents with a much looser grip on all things, and also having an older sibling to show him the way including all the shortcuts, both a blessing and a curse. He's even got the tween-like vernacular already, complete with all the inflection and attitude. Luckily he is incredibly funny and sweet as pie, and has no idea what he's saying. "Cheese, mom! I'm coming!" Nice.
At three he is all snuggles and belly laughs, a thumb-sucker and a bonafide lefty, my baby and getting to be such a big boy. Life is easy for him and for so many bittersweet reasons this is such a huge relief. Really, I'm just so glad that he is such a happy little fishy.