My BFF, the 3 Year Old

My very best friend turns 3 today!

(Well, one of my best friends. Easily top 4.)

If you’ve never had a 3 year old best friend, you’re missing out. They are a riot.

They’re messy and unpredictable, too, but mostly just fun.

Last week, this guy threw his arms around my neck, pressed his face completely flush with mine, and whispered, “Can we stay like dis forever, mama?”

This week, all he wants to do for his birthday is eat Chick-fil-A, cupcakes, and hot dogs while we sit on the couch and watch movies. He is the human embodiment of my heart’s deepest desires*.

(*assuming he means Home Depot Hot Dogs®)

Hutton is the kind of person that makes you smile just to think about.

When one of his teachers comes up and starts to tell me a story from class, I immediately grin in anticipation, knowing it will be about a time he brought joy to others.

That’s who he is – a joy bringer.

A few weeks ago he wore fake teeth to the doctor’s office because he “just wanna be funny.”

He said, “Is dat okay, mama? Can I wear dese?”

Um, yes, son. Do your thang.

He is our quiet observer. He’s not as vocal as his brothers, but he soaks everything in. He waits for the quiet reflection of the bedtime to ask questions about something on his mind.

He is a serious foodie. He loves food of all kinds. All shapes, all sizes. He is not a calorie discriminator.

He is an encourager. When his brother was getting discouraged with his memory verses a few days ago, Hutton piped up and said, “You can do it, Beckett. You are strong and courageous. You can do dem all…and den we will celebrate.”He’s a lot like his dad – the steady hand always ready to help.

He is considerate. He shares with others, he goes with the flow, and he holds the door open for little old ladies while saying, “You first!” Treating others kindly is not something we have to work on with him, it is just a part of who he is.

He is a lot of wonderful things; he is also a hot mess, as all good 3 year olds are.

He spills *literally* every cup of liquid he ever comes in contact with.

He freaks out when his food gets broken. Hand him a crumbly biscuit or a wimpy granola bar and he loses his ever-loving mind.

He does not do bugs, especially “mama-squitos”. I’d tell you about the time one got in the house but that’s between him and his therapist.

And his earballs, you guys? They are the hottest mess of all. The whole saga is maybe a story for another time, but the gist of it is – due to an unending string of infections – he wears an earplug in all water for the foreseeable future and his eardrum will have to be completely reconstructed in a few years.

Boo. hiss.

The downside is he has mild hearing loss/hearing jumbly in the interim; the upside is he looks really dang cute when he grabs your face and says – with exaggerated enunciation – “WHAT DO YOU SAY??! TALK YOUDER SO I CAN HEAR YOU.”

I could write a novel on all the reasons I love this boy, but I’ll just let you come over and watch my 7-hour Powerpoint presentation sometime instead.

We have several recurring prayers for our boys, but my currents for Hutton are these:

That the Lord captures his heart. That one day soon, someone can describe him as “a valiant man whose heart was touched by God.” (1 Samuel 10:26)
That he continues hearing and absorbing and loving the Bible. That one day he can say, “His word is in my heart like fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in, indeed I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9)
That he continues to bring joy wherever he goes. That he is “joyful in hope, patient in {ear} affliction, faithful in prayer.” (Romans 12:12)

In case you can’t tell, we love this little boy something fierce.

I’d make out with his personality if I could. (And if that wouldn’t be a really weird thought to have, let alone publish on the internet forever.)