The Big Oh-Three

   Wessy has been three for over a month now, so I guess now is as good a time as any to write a blog post about it?  Three years old, for some reason, feels like a real solid kid age.  I read some books about child development by Alison Gopnik, and in her mind, she defines babies as anyone under three.  So I always had it in my mind that when Wesley turned three, he would officially be Not a Baby Anymore.  Mind you, this is very different from Not MY Baby Anymore, which is something he will never, ever be.



   In HIS mind, Wessy is DEFINITELY NOT A BABY ANYMORE.  If you say anything about him being a baby, or owning baby things, or doing baby things, he will immediately and emphatically correct you:  SOY UN NINYO GRANDE MAMA.  Once he saw a picture of a baby rattle in a book and asked me what it was.  I told him, "That's a baby rattle.  You had one when you were a baby." He sighed at my ignorance and corrected me, "MAMA, I HAD A BIG BOY RATTLE."



  If I get all mushy and sentimental and tell him he's my little baby, he will quickly point out, that, no, PLANTAS ES TU BEBE. SOY TU NINYO GRANDE.  Usually I'm too overcome by the cuteness of this to argue the above point about him never not being my baby and/or go into the fact that he and Plantas are both, in fact, my babies and always will be, so I just acquiesce and agree that he's a big boy and Plantas is a fetus-baby and everyone is happy.



  Speaking of Plantas, Wessy's understanding of Plantas seems to have evolved.  He previously had asked me and Stevo who Plantas's parents were, uncomprehending of the fact that he could share his parents.  Now he readily accepts that we are able to be parents to him and Plantas both.  Correspondingly, he is accepting, if not entirely embracing, of his big brother role.  He uses it to bolster his I'm-not-a-baby case (Stevo said that a week ago he told him, "I'm not a baby because I'm three and I'm going to be a big brother").  He also accepts big brotherhood as an important facet of family life--so important, in fact, that a few days ago he asked me, "MAMA QUIEN FUE MI HERMANO MAYOR CUANDO YO ERA BEBE?"



 Granted, he has not been unwavering in his endorsement of having a little sibling.  He has also told me on occasion, very politely but emphatically, that he would prefer that Plantas just stayed inside forever.  Sorry buddy, but that is NOT a plan that I can get behind.  Then again, yesterday he told me that he was excited for Plantas to come.  Three year olds are nothing if not mercurial, and I have no doubt that this rapid-fire changing of opinion is an accurate foreshadowing of their sibling relationship.


Apart from negotiating the baby-big boy divide and anticipating the arrival of a sibling, the next biggest thing going on in Wessy's three year-old world is getting used to his new preschool.  We are a month in, and preschool seems to be getting easier for Wessy, which is not to say that it's going super smoothly yet.  He still resists going to school in the mornings, but does seem to relax and do well once he's there--at least from what we can gather from the many pictures and videos the teachers dutifully send us almost daily.



  Generally, the first thing out of his mouth in the morning is "I don't want to go to school."  Part of me knows this is just (expected) adjustment phase and that things are going to get easier for him as he understands more Chinese and gets to know his classmates better.  Another part of me doesn't want him to dislike going to school, even a little bit, when he's only three.   As someone who complained that she hated school for many years (and I really did) to parents who never did much about it, I don't want to give him the impression I'm dismissing his concerns when I tell him that it's okay and it will get better. 


    And of course, there is the part of me that ALSO doesn't want to just throw in the towel because it's hard right now, because I'm fairly confident that he will really like school once he understands more Chinese. AND I don't want him to learn that the way to solve one's issues is to just give up or leave the situation entirely rather than adapting and trying to make it work.   



We definitely see little glimmers of hope come out here and there--he came home a few days ago singing Happy Birthday in Chinese, and he will sometimes spontaneously bust out Kung Fu moves.  So I know that he is participating at school and absorbing all kinds of new things that I hope are enjoyable and interesting to him. In fact, yesterday when Jeje went to pick him up, he told her that he didn't want to leave yet! And then this morning...back to "I don't want to go to school today." Sigh.


So, there is Wessy's three year-old world for you...learning to be a brand-new big boy, adjusting the idea of becoming a big brother and hopefully hating preschool a little less each day.  We love him desperately.  We just want him to be happy and to learn to negotiate all these changes with as much resilience and good humor as possible, but it's hard to see him struggle (even in ways that are safe and not a huge deal in the scheme of things). 

Gwynn Valley

Last month we returned to the place it all started, Gwynn Valley.  Olivia and I met there 12 years ago.   We'd been back a few times for a brief visit, but wessy had never even set foot in North Carolina much less been to camp.  He was enthusiastic from the start, given that the trip began with a ride on an airplane.  The flight was a great success.  We bought him these toddler headphones, which may have been good for an hour or so of entertainment.  We had positioned ourselves with seats near the rear toilet, and wessy was happy to make use of it.



The trip started with a visit to auntie Ray and uncle Kevin's house in Atlanta.  We took the MARTA rail which wessy dubbed "el BART."  Understandable mistake.  The rolling stock is the same for both systems, and the trains even make a similar humming noise as they roll.



At camp, Wessy's favorite activity by far was picking up rocks and sticks in the many streams.



Picking leaves off the plants and tree was also a hit.









Of course, Wessy enjoyed the farm and the horses.

It should be noted that while several of these pics show me leading Wessy around camp, almost all of the Wessy-containment duties fell to mommy, as I was perpetually being called to some minor "emergency" or another.  We were actually there putatively so I could be the camp doctor, but it seemed more like we were there to enjoy the mountains of NC on a pseudo-vacation.

Most of the medical issues that arose were fairly prosaic: mystery rashes, bug bites, etc.  We did have some broken bones, and a rather scary episode involving a pitchfork vs a hand.  I'll leave it at that.



I had requested that we have a separate room for Wessy (declined), but this turned out to be completely unnecessary.  Wessy slept in his portable crib in the corner of our room, and slept remarkably well (usually in bed by 8, babbling until 9 or 10, and then up at 8 AM).   Not too shabby.



We stayed at camp the entire time except one foray into Asheville to celebrate Rob's birthday.







On the way home, we came back to see Wessy's cousins one more time and return Ray's car.  Wessy got some time to play with his cousin Ada, which mostly involved wessy splashing Ada and enjoying the novelty of running around outside shirtless.