Alby at 3 years and 3 months

Conscious that I don’t write anywhere near as much as I’m used to I wanted to spend a little moment summing up Alby as a three year old.  Cos he’s a great little kid really, full of character and in ten years time when I’m dealing with a stroppy teenager I hope that I can look back on this and smile at the little boy who was.  And very possibly pick up on a number of things from now that already reveal the type of person he will grow up to be.

Alby’s vocabulary continues to grow at a crazy pace and he keeps coming out with things that make me laugh.  Today after baking fairy cakes I thanked Alby for his help to which he replied “it was my pleasure”.  I’ve never heard him say that before. 

Whilst two year old Alby appreciated a “good idea” nowadays ideas are more likely to be “great” or even “brilliant”.  Things are no longer big but rather “huge” or even “enormous”. 

Alby has a bit of an obsession over height.  He talks a lot about when he will be taller and how tall he will be.  In response I’ve become the clichéd adult begging him to enjoy being small and a child for as long as possible and not being so concerned about growing up already.  But despite my comments, being tall is still the ultimate prize.  And so from sticks to cutlery to pens to books we get the constant question “which one’s taller”?  Or, more frequently, the statement “my spoons bigger compared to yours” or “my sticks bigger compared to yours” (keeping the gender stereotypes alive and well here).  To Mark’s constant amusement Alby can’t actually say the word “compared” however and instead it comes out as “bedared to” and so our house is filled with chatter like “I’m taller bedared to little Milly” or “King’s bigger bedared to Lightening McQueen”. 

And when I say the house is filled with chatter I’m not joking.  Alby keeps a running commentary going during car and train races, dragon fighting, duplo construction and playdough squishing.  Or even when just walking around the house.  Mark’s giggled a good few times having asked Alby what he’s talking about Alby replies “I’m just talking to myself daddy.”  For this I am no doubt completely responsible.  Before Alby could talk car journeys were generally spent with me just talking at him – more than to myself than anybody else – and it’s only now that he asks “what are you talking about mummy” that I’ve started shutting up.

As well as stumbling over the word “compared” Alby’s also yet to get his tongue around “pretend” and instead tells us frequently that “I’m just tending mummy / daddy”.  And we do a lot of “tending” each day.  We “tend fight”, we “tend to fly” (when we’re tending to be Superman), we “tend” to cook our playdough and sometimes we even “tend to eat” it too.

Superman has somehow flown into our lives and we’ve no idea how or why but he’s proving quite fun.  Alby’s superman t-shirt and cape that he got for Christmas stayed on for 3 whole days (I had to stay up late and wash it in the night to prevent my child from being too disgusting come Boxing Day).  Being Superman can be hard work and Alby finds himself having to do a lot of rescuing and flying around.  Thankfully he has his friends to help him: Spiderman aka Daddy and Batman aka mummy (having recently been promoted from the position of “other Superman”).  Sometimes Superdog Percy also gets to join in the fun.  Don’t think for a moment that this is just a fun little game.  Alby takes it very seriously.  I’ve been told off on numerous occasions for calling Alby by his name: “I’m not Alby, I’m Superman”.  Similarly, referring to Mark as Daddy rather than Spiderman has had me equally chastised and there have been times when Alby will only play with Mark if he’s taken on his superhero persona.   We are big fans of the Shirley Hughes Alfie stories but, to make them more special, we change Alfie to Alby when reading.  Recently Alby decided to take this a step further and insisted Mark read Alfie as Superman in every story instead.  No doubt a way to keep him on his toes.

Alby is fascinated by feelings and any books relating to emotions that we’ve taken out of the library are always incredibly popular.  When I pick him up from nursery he enjoys telling me how bossy Indah has been or how bossy another child has been, though he appears quite blind to his own bossy tendencies.  Something which makes Mark and I laugh, especially when he tells us off for being a “bossy boots”.  We get bossed about for everything.  If we do a running races we get told where the starting line is, who is going to win (always Alby), and who is going to do the countdown (always Alby).  Failure to follow his instructions or even preventing him from going through all instructions can result in a meltdown.  We get bossed about what spoon he is going to eat with, which cup he is going to drink from, what colour counter we can be when we play his new (and only) boardgame: Orchard Toys, the three little pigs.  Even putting him into the bath (bottom first, always) requires direct and repeated instruction.

He loves riding his bike, climbing, bouncing on the bed and throwing himself off things (bed, stairs, sofas) into your arms.  He often finds he runs low on energy when out riding his bike.  Usually this can be fixed with a quick pit stop (parking his bike on the curb for a moment) though sometimes only going on shoulders is the only solution).

He loves a sword fight, Peter Pan, Captain Hook, pirates generally alongside knights and dragons.  You can fight normally but every now and then, for a bit of fun, he demands “crab fighting” which basically involves taking more of a jousting stance rather than straight on which Alby has yet to realise makes you a more efficient fighter.  He just thinks it’s funny as you look like a scuttling crab.  

Sword fights can also be interrupted by the need for a quick Swashbuckle salute (CBeebies you have a lot to answer for): “Hand on your heart.  Okay, eye patch, eye patch, pirate hat, pirate hat, Swashbuckle cheer, Arrrgggghhhhh”.

He is pretty good eating vegetables provided they are carrots, broccoli, beans, peas or sweetcorn.  Often finds that his tummy “isn’t filled up yet”.  Would happily eat six pots of yoghurt a day if only he got the change.  Loves the idea of cake but doesn’t actually eat it, believing that licking off the icing is all that he needs to do.  That said, he’s recently come to identify that some foods are sweet and others aren’t and spends a great deal of his time demanding “something sweet to fill up my tummy”.  Only occasionally will he accept that apples and carrots are sweet foods.

He loves hiding under the duvet in our bedroom aka Daddy’s tent and we’re currently getting dragged into daily games of hide and seek.  He’s not bad at it – he actually properly hides rather than just sitting in the middle of the dining room floor as he did six months ago and waits for you to find him rather than jumping out the minute you walk into the room.  However, he enjoys hiding so much that he giggles like crazy and the duvet / cushion or curtain that he’s hiding behind shakes like mad the closer you get and the more you pretend to struggle to find him.

Alby has a big heart.  He’s good at huggles and when tired often leaves his toys to come and see me and request a huggle.  It makes my heart melt.  He tells us often that he loves us “to the moon and back”.  Again, another heart melting moment.  Over Christmas I told Alby to kiss Mark on his honker, meaning his nose and Alby thought I said “tonker” so now we get daily kisses on the tonker as Alby’s special treat for his hard working parents.  Mark can’t leave the house for work without three kisses, three huggles and three high fives and at bedtime I have to give him a kiss for every room of the house as well as doing a circle of kisses around his face before he takes my hand and falls asleep.

He’s a ball of energy and whilst I’ve refrained from talk of tantrums I assure you that we are no stranger to them.  Sleep is still broken fairly frequently and he’s as particular about things as Percy.  His hair won’t lie flat, he takes pride in how good he’s become at getting dressed by himself (mostly just pants and trousers but still a big improvement on a few months back) and he loves telling me all about the world.  He sings like nobody can hear him (we all can), dances like nobody’s watching (we are and we’re laughing) and smiles often.  He’s a joy, a Trouble Monkey, a Cheeky Monkey and one of our most favourite people in the world.