Three and B

For the longest time, when people would ask our youngest child his name, he’d look at them and say, in his matter-of-fact way, “I’m two and B.” Inevitably, I’d have to interpret. Now, since he’s had a birthday, he has seamlessly made the switch from “two” to “three”, and has even mastered the three-finger sign for the age, for which he has so eagerly been awaiting, for the last six months. “I’m three and B.”

Little Brisco is about as entertaining as they come. He has the voice of a Chihuahua, the personality of a cocker spaniel, and the tenacity of a bulldog. In human terms I guess that’d make him a little like a cross between Rainman, Jim Carey, and Scarlett O’Hara-in miniature form, of course. But he’s our baby, and he keeps us laughing, always guessing, and on our toes every moment of every day.

For example just this week, I went out back to check on the boys and I found him standing on the porch with his pants around his ankles, peeing into the back of his dump truck. After startling him into a wall-drenching frenzy, I managed to ask why on earth he had done such a thing. His answer was just what I expected, “Because I did.”

And that got me thinking. There’s really no mind like that of a child. So innocent, so literal, so maddening. So I wanted to be sure to catch an accurate glimpse of the mind of our “B” at the tender age of “three”. And this is what I gleaned.

Favorite Color: Red
Favorite Toy: Monster trucks
Favorite Song: Zacchaeus
Favorite Supper: I don’t like supper food.
Favorite Lunch: I don’t like lunch food.
Favorite Candy?: Red candy…and Green candy…and Black candy…and Brown candy…
Favorite Friend: Cooper
And if you could have one thing for your birthday, what would it be?: “I wish we could have a baby Sydnee.”

And that, my friends, marked the end of my questioning.

I beg myself, almost as often as I breathe, to savor every episode. And while we slip and sail through the daily insanity that is the life of a parent, I know that some day, it will all be worth it. We will be able to look back on all the moments of endless chattering, crazy-cartoon faces, and strong-willed defiance and feel relief at the gentleman he has become.

But in the meantime, as we risk life, limb and mental stability attempting to make this baby bulldog into a Supreme Grand Champion Show Dog, I’m taking notes. Because without a doubt, as “three and B” advances to “four” and “fourteen” and eventually “twenty-four”, I’m convinced the stories of his childhood will come in quite handy.

And that’s All in a day’s work!