Sunshine, My Only Sunshine

This is my tribute to Noah Michael, who is three years old and very, very good at it.

This is dedicated to Noah, because he sucks every ounce of energy out me and makes my brain chant, "NOAH NOAH NOAH" all day long.

Noah is super handsome.  He has my eyes and his dad's ears and a smile straight from heaven.

Noah is constant energy.  This is since he was In The Belly.  Just as I would be ready to doze off after a long day, he would somersault like the circus performer he is and keep me up all night long.  These days, he gives nightly performances of Justin Bieber, Bryan Adams, Bon Jovi, and any other music he's into.  Concerts start at 2 am.

Noah is ambidextrous.  He favors the left hand for writing, eating, and other regular activities, but can switch it out if he feels like it.

Noah is extremely intelligent.  He is a second child who will not stand for second best.  Because Joey can read, Noah is teaching himself.  He knows all his letters, all their sounds, and can actually sound out whole words.

He is extremely logical and pragmatic.  Sometimes he hits his brother.  It works out for him because Joey will never hit back.  When questioned, Noah says calmly, "But he was annoying me," or, "But I wanted that toy, and he wouldn't give it to me."  He definitely feels bogged down by rules and manners.  It all just seems to get in the way.

Noah is loud.  And he's not always singing.  Sometimes he looks me in the eyes and glares, and yells, "GUTS" because he thinks it's a bad word.  Sometimes he squeaks.  He makes his voice at a pitch that's almost worthy of dog whistles and says, "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!!!"  After your ear drums recover, I suggest counting to ten and breathing in and out.

He's not a good waker-upper.  After finally getting rest, he will generally be in a better mood, but not for the first fifteen minutes after waking.  Then he has a frown worthy of Hades.  He throws all his most prized stuffed animals at anyone who dares to look at him.  He says things like, "Go aWAY.  I don't like ANYONE."  If you attempt to cajole or, God forbid, take him out of his bed, he makes his body EITHER A) stiff as a board or B) totally floppy like a wet noodle.  He SQUEEEEEEEAKS and flails and pretty much makes you want to jump out the nearest window.  Which is on the second floor.

Noah refused to use the potty until he was three years and four months old, and it was only because I gated him into the bathroom.  He was so mad, he sat down and pooped, and yelled, "THERE.  I did it. Can I get out of here and have a treat now?"

On a particularly low day, I ran out of legal discipline options and went with, "If you don't want to be a nice boy in Mommy's house, you can live in a different house."  I opened the back door and pointed at the yard, expecting tears, apologies, and maybe a hug.  But Noah said, "OKAY," and walked right out the door.  I called (in a total panic), "I really mean it, Noah!" and he called back, "Okay!  I'll go live at my playground!"

If I say, "No" about any certain thing, Noah will shrug and go find his dad, in search of a more pleasing answer.  If his dad also says "No," he lies to one of us about what the other said and does what he wants, anyway.  If you catch him and call him out on it, he says, "THEN I'M THE BOSS!"

Once, he walked by me with his hands behind his back.  He said, "I have no candy behind my back."

Noah also gets into fits of giggles where his eyes tear and his belly and shoulders shake.  He once said to me in the car, "My Mommy, I love you more than I love cookies."  He gives bear hugs and butterfly kisses, and sometimes comes to find me in the house just to say, "Momma, you are a beautiful momma."  He loves to snuggle and when he smiles at you, your heart will break into a million tiny pieces because it's like looking at personified sunshine.

And damn it, he really sings well.  Even at 2 in the morning.