I remember Milo being pretty quirky at this age (scroll down to the bottom of that post to see him in his Thor costume– which he insisted on wearing every. single. day.). But Oliver takes the cake for
strangest human being most impressive imagination. He has insisted on wearing a bucket on his head and one on his hand (the head-bucket he calls booty-helmet and the hand-bucket he refers to as safety-shootah) for the past couple of days, loosing his mind if he forgets to wear them to the coffee place or playground or just on a quick jaunt to the toilet.
Oliver surprises us all with his elaborate pretend games. While both his brothers (older and younger) nap upstairs (yes, this kid quit napping a year ago), Oliver quietly but constantly converses with himself out loud in dramatic dialogues which Andrew and I cannot follow even when we do hide around the corner to eavesdrop. He has some kind of complicated game going on in his head most hours of the day.
And this is all new to us. Because at the exact same time, his almost-5-year-old brother is starting to do the same thing. Elaborate pretend play that he never engaged in before (perhaps Milo was too busy jumping off stuff and improving his physical prowess to work on his imaginative side?). And now our house is being overrun (in a good way) with exaggerations and drama of the boy variety (i.e. someone is getting shot, killed, destroyed, seriously maimed, or put in jail).
There are lots of sound effects. But our favorites? As imaginative as Oliver is, he is a walking stereotype. When he gets hurt, he actually says, “WAAAAAHHHH! Wah! Wah! Wah!” When he slides down the slide, he says “Weeee!” in a strange, mocking tone, as if to relay to the rest of us how absolutely ridiculous we are.
And today, this little fella turns three!!!
Here are a few facts about Oliver:
His favorite color is orange. Favorite toys are a small plastic purple camera and a magnetic wooden fishing pole (and now a wooden play house on our back deck). He plays with Magna Tiles on an hourly basis. He has become a really finicky eater in the strangest way: he loves salmon or tuna but hates simple things like pasta or peanut butter and jelly or rice. He hates taking naps (obviously) and haircuts (double obviously).
I could go on and on about Oliver. He is infuriating in so many ways, and minutes later completely endearing beyond belief. He is incredibly affectionate and tells us things like, “Mama, I love you. I’m so glad we have you.”
Oliver, you have grown into quite a wonderful little guy. Heck, you were born wonderful, but you only get better with each day. We love you, Gooey Gumdrop!
Birthday photos to follow…