I started out to write a post about how to preserve cherry tomatoes, but then as I was typing my 3 year old walked up, rubbed my back, and asked if I was thirsty.  I said yes and he went and got me some water.

All the sudden I didn’t want to post about tomatoes anymore.  I want to tell you all about my first born. My Gilbert.

In all the challenging moments of motherhood (for example my three month old spit up in my mouth last week), I latch on to the moments like the glass of water when I see a little kind person shining through all that toddler.

Gilbert is 3 years old and full of vibrant life.  He consumes knowledge voraciously.  Every piece of information is urgent for him to learn and then urgent for him to share (mostly with Charlie).

He catapults out of his room at night (after we think he’s asleep) just to ask “what is this?  What does this say?  I can’t read.  I need to know this!”  Finding out the piece of information CANNOT wait until the morning.  I have resigned myself to answering his questions and sending him back to bed.

He takes planting lima beans very seriously.

And sometimes he runs up to me and yells “I love you.  I just needed to tell you”.

He needed to tell me.  NEED.  (Seriously… sometimes I wish adults were more like children.  How many times have you called somebody up or run up to a person just to tell them you loved them?  Because you NEEDED to tell them.  It was urgent.   It could not wait).

Gilbert has been enamored with Charlie since day 1.

That’s my favorite thing about him: he’s expressive and kind.  He notices how others are feeling and his instinct is to help.  He is very gentle with animals.  Every day, at least twice, he asks me how I’m doing and then sits to wait for a real response.  When I reciprocate, he beams and launches into quite the stream of consciousness account of how he is doing.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely 3.  He’ll karate chop you and challenge you to a wizards’ duel too.  He will sit down and tell you all about the dragons he has memorized.  Because you need to know about the “screaming death” or the “hideous zippleback.”  It’s essential knowledge in his (stubborn) opinion.

Tractors are the coolest machines in the world to him.

Just tonight, he ran out of his room and said he needed to talk to me.  Immediately.

The subject? Dinosaur Extinction. He needed a commitment that tomorrow we figure out how all the dinosaurs died.

So tomorrow’s schedule in between snack time and lunch reads “find out how dinosaurs died.”  Because for Gilbert this is of the utmost importance.  It cannot wait a week.  It’s a miracle it waited until morning.

And that’s my impatient, energetic, sweet Gilbert.