A Boy Called Widget

My baby is three today.

This means, in my mind, that I no longer have any babies. I have two little boys, yes, but neither one can truly be called a baby in the true sense of the word.

Mind you, The Widget has not been very Baby for quite some time now though it would make me very happy if he'd be a little more cooperative with the potty training and not just reserve the perfection for his father thankyouverymuch. A few months ago I looked at him as he bounced around in his pull-up and realized that his chub is gone. His little body has lengthened and slimmed and stretched into that body shape that speaks boy rather than baby. His proportions are mini-adult rather than mini-leg.

And I miss my chubbers. I miss those pudgy, dimpled thighs. I miss the soft roundness of his arms around my neck. I miss that buddha belly that jiggled when he ran.

Not that I don't delight in the boy he is becoming. I love the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, those hazel eyes that are clearly Me. I love his linguistic leaps and explorations. I love his infectious giggles, even when they are triggered by teasing DramaBoy by repeating everything he says.

(Mama! The Widget is copying me! DramaBoy protests.

Mama! The Widget is copying me! The Widget mimics, and bursts into giggles even as his brother groans with exasperation.)

He is more reserved than DramaBoy, who has a tendency to burst into rooms with fanfare and sparkles. The Widget likes to scope out the scene first and determine just how he fits. He is a people watcher. Lately, however, he has become friendlier even through the initial shyness. When greeted, he says Hi! and waves rather than just hiding behind my legs--though that often happens as well. He becomes more comfortable in new settings far more quickly than before, particularly if there are other children around.

One of his best friends is an adorable little dandelion-fluff-haired girl, B, who is the daughter of a coworker and exactly one month younger than he. They have always been in daycare together. In fact, when he changed daycares last year, she was switched over to his new one a few months later.

Since B's mother works with me, we drop our children off at the same time in the mornings. As we approach the school, The Widget will call out, Is B there? Is B's car there? And when he spots that red-orange minivan, he switches to B is here! B's car is here! Yay! B is here!

However, as soon as we walk through the classroom door, he's all cool and reserved. It's very much a Hey...what's up, girl? sort of attitude.

He's playing hard to get already.

He's still my little cuddlebug, though, that boy. I still get those arms wrapped around my neck, those plump little lips pressing kisses on my cheeks. Now, however, I also get the words I wuv you, Mama! I wuv you! 

And I melt.

He'll always be my baby. But there are compensations for the loss of his babyhood.

Happy Birthday, my not-so-little Widget!