My son is not three any more.This information was imparted to me by my very grown up son(he is 14.) This knowledge was bestowed upon me as I kissed and hugged him while I was waking him up.
Of course you are not three my darling.
You can’t be and it’s only my loss.
If you were three you’d have searched for the crook of my neck before you opened your eyes.
You would have snuggled into my embrace lingering your sleep a little longer as you clung to me.
If you were three,you’d have begged me to lie with you and woken up to my kisses.
You would have raised your arms and waited to be picked up by me.
You would have replied to my good morning with your eyes closed and a delicate smile,in a mumble of gurgles and broken words That only I understood.
If you were three you would have asked me to brush your teeth and giggled as I shampooed your soft hair.
You would have relied on me to choose your clothes and worn them with pride.
If you were three you would have held my dress following me around as I cooked breakfast for you.
Of course you aren’t three my love because if you were you would have insisted I feed you with a story I made along the way,which you listened to in rapturous silence punched with your wide eyes and chuckles.
Your wounds could’ve been healed with my kisses. Your fears banished by my hugs.At three you would have felt the safest in my arms.
If you were three you would climb into my lap showering me with kisses minus an occasion.
If you were three you would have stood outside the bathroom door as I showered and waited impatiently till I got out to hold you back again.
If you were three your life would revolve around me my baby. The way mine will always revolve around you.
Yes you are not a three year old baby anymore.
But you will always be my baby. No matter how old you get whether you are three or thirteen or thirty.
While I will always be the mother who will never grow up since you were born.