Well, Camp Grandma is quickly drawing to a close and the girls are due back in just a few days. They’ve been spoiled by their grandparents, aunt, and our friends in Georgia for nearly 3 weeks, but it’s finally time for them to come home. There’s no doubt that re-entry will be rough for all of us…especially this guy (and yes, I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to show you just how cute he looks in his tux). 
Because, this guy? He’s gotten pretty used to being an only child. Sure, the first day or two he looked for his sisters – he even refused to go into school because his sister wasn’t there to hold his hand – but in the last couple weeks, he’s most definitely rebounded. Um, maybe a little too much? And being an only child certainly does suit him.
https://instagram.com/p/4IeYjEpkSD/
Not that I can say that I blame him, of course. And when I take a minute to stop and think about it, he’d be a pretty great only child. Seasoned by his sisters for nearly 2 years, there’s no doubt that my third child is my most delightfully uncomplicated child. He’s been taught how to share and how to get along with others from day one. And he seems to understand just how loud our house normally is, because this kid has an appreciation for quiet that none of my other kids possess…actually it’s almost as if he enjoys the new-found quiet in our house more than I do. 
There’s no doubt he’s different than the others. Or, maybe, I’ve just changed as a parent?
Because with my third child came a confidence I didn’t have before. The confidence to take my baby out and about regularly, when I had pretty much resigned myself to life as a hermit after my first. The confidence to make decisions in minutes that used to take me days. And the confidence to stand by those decisions even when second guessed by others.
He also came with patience. Patience to deal with the messes, to know that sometimes even he doesn’t know what he’s crying about, and to put his shoes on no less than 12 times per day without being annoyed, because I know that these times are fleeting and we’re quickly approaching the “I do it” phase that is sure to bite me in the ass on those mornings we’re running late for school. It would be fair to say that I didn’t know how hard that phase was going to bite me the first time around.
Best of all, my third child brought me a sense of humor to laugh at the little tantrums…and then laugh a little harder when he follows me to the next room because I’m not taking his tantrum seriously enough. Only to get him more upset because my main concern is capturing the moment for social media and his (so far non-existent) baby book. Because, seriously, who gets this bent out of shape over a broken graham cracker?
https://instagram.com/p/4VL2jupkYB
Yes, if I could only have one child, I’d definitely want it to be a third child.
