He told me what gifts he'd like to receive. "I like blue presents, mom," he said. This took me back to Aaron's delight with his Yellow Birthday Party when he turned three. Three is a great age for simple gifts, I find. From his grandpa he got an Imaginext Batmobile, which he calls his "cool car" (which, while blue, is not so simple, but is also not from his immediate [cheap] family) . He sometimes pushes it around on the floor, but mostly he carries it in his arms and calls it his baby, like he sometimes does with other random objects, not including dolls and stuffed animals.
I remember the first time I gave Spencer chocolate, in chocolate chip pancakes. He ate it voraciously and begged for more. He seriously shook as he anxiously put each bite into his mouth. Over the years he has become slightly less obsessed, but is still a major fan of chocolate, which must be stored out of his sight. He asked for brownies for his birthday cake and then said, "I like brownies and cake and pies and muffins and cookies." Me too, Spencer. Me too.
In his personal prayer tonight he thanked his heavenly father "that I could eat my mint brownieth and that I could be (unclasping hands and holding up three fingers) three (re-clasping), and that I could be a liiiiiiiiiittle bit bigger."
I'm grateful for those things too, but only in a sort of resigned way because the truth is that today I wish he could stay just like he is now forever.