When your child is adopted, it brings questions. Even as I told people that today is my son’s birthday, some asked me the inevitable questions. Is it his real birthday? How did we know? How much information did we have? For the most part, I don’t mind answering the questions. A lot of them know that my birthday was chosen and we don’t know if it’s the actual date. It’s logical to wonder if my son is the same.

Today is my son’s birthday. He’s three years old and he’ll tell anyone who asks. One of my co-workers asked me if he understood his birthday and I told them no. As far as he’s concerned, his birthday is the whole month of December.

We’ve over done it a little, but this is the first year that he really understands what’s happening – birthday and the holidays. It’s much more fun with him as an active participant. We’re watching Christmas movies and he’s telling us what he wants Santa to bring. Out of the blue, he’ll tell us that “yesterday” was his birthday party and he had cake.

We had his birthday party on the ninth so that both sets of grandparents could be there. We gave him his big boy bed and his grandparents spoiled him with toys. He had a cake with his beloved “Lightning McQueen” and he thought it was funny that everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to him.

Tough there were no presents today, he got to pick his birthday dinner. He chose hot dogs and Kraft mac-n-cheese in the box. I ate the mac-n-cheese, but left the hotdogs to my guys. (I went to a pig roast when I was a child and figured out where pork comes from. I haven’t eaten any since.) I am very glad my son only plans the menu once a year.

For me, it’s really his talking that has marked this change from two to three. I love that he’s talking now and telling me what he’s done all day. His daycare is getting ready to move him to the pre-school room. He’s been “visiting” that room more and more often.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

“I go to big boy room,” he told me.

“What did you do there?” I asked.

“I cried,” he said.

“Why?”

“I don’t like it room. I like Prepper room,” he told me. “I play in big boy room.”

“You’ll like your new room, baby,” I said.

“I not a baby,” he said. “I’m a big boy.

Yes, he is definitely my little big boy.