Happy Birthday Little!

Dear Little,

I am a day late in writing you this birthday letter, but you were more than a day late in being born so let's call it even! Yesterday, you turned three. Or "free" as you call it, proudly holding up four fingers on each hand. You can actually count fairly high--I've heard you get as far as 17 in more or less the right order and in 2 languages no less! You can recognize a few numbers and letters too. I think you maybe should be able to recognize a few more and sometimes feel like I'm not spending enough time on things like that with you.

But you are smart as a whip. Nothing gets by you. Especially if I am chewing gum or eating candy. You either smell it or notice my mouth moving from a mile away and come running to say "Also I want gum." Or you just help yourself from my bag.

You are so independent. You announce "I needa pee" and then off you go to take care of it by yourself, only sometimes coming back to me with your shorts around your ankles because you need some help pulling them up. And then you run back saying "I needa flush and wash my hands." You like to pick out your own clothes...almost always a shirt with yellow somewhere on it and "sebenteen shorts" (which are shorts with any number or letters on the leg).

Your favorite food by far is a yogurt drink. You have at least 4-5 of them a day. You are also partial to hummous by the spoonful, being the true Middle Easterner that you are. Although you certainly don't look the part with your beautiful white-blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Sometimes I look at you and have no idea where you came from. How you got to be this perfect little boy. So sweet when you want to be and so sure of what you want, especially when what you want is "don't talk to me, Mommy!" You are truly a Daddy's boy in every sense of the word. When you wake up in the middle of the night because you have fallen out of bed you cry for Daddy. When you wake up in the morning, you run right for Daddy. When you fall and get hurt you cry for Daddy. When we ask who should put you to bed you choose Daddy. I love that you have that relationship with him and nothing makes me happier than the one random time that you say "I need Mommy!" (of course it only happens when Daddy isn't around but that is ok).

You were only 9 months old when we moved to Israel. You don't know of any other life other than the one you have here. Hearing 2 languages is normal to you. You love Yuval Ha'Mevulbal and have no idea who Elmo is. You play with your toy cash register and say "20 shekels please" because you don't know what "a dollar" is. But you can identify the difference between the Israeli Flag and the American Flag. And you know that going on an airplane means "we going to 'merica."

You love the beach, the pool, the sprinkler park, anything with water. You are fearless when it comes to jumping in the water or climbing up a jungle gym. But you are terrified beyond terrified of cockroaches and dogs.

You love books--sometimes you want them read to you and sometimes you just want them next to you in your bed. You also love motorcycles and cars and coloring (you know that we only color on paper but sometimes you get confused and think the wall IS paper).

Until just a few days ago, you couldn't pronounce the "sc" sound. It came out "ch." So "scared" was "chared" and "squirrel" was "chuirrel" etc. I'm sad that you can say it right now! You are growing up so fast. I love you more than anything forever and ever!!

Here is you just born:















One Year Old:














Two Years Old:














And Now: