I laugh more. I smile more. I love more. My three-year-old son challenges me, inspires me and surprises me everyday. Before I became a mother, I thought I wanted a family. But you never really know what it’s going to be like until you get there.

The baby years are now a bit of a blur. I remember breast feeding, sleepless nights, burpy burps and “poo”splosions as we used to call them. I recall the details of our premature delivery and months in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit but the fear and anxiety of those days is long behind us. Our hearts have healed over time with the magic of his first tooth, that first word: “banana”, first steps and first birthday. Our baby had become a curious and imaginative toddler.

Then the twos came along, and I went through a bit of a depression when my lovely little boy started biting, pulling hair and scratching me. “No. No. No!” he would yell. I vaguely wondered if my kid was turning into the devil but then realized that kind of behavior is what puts the terrible in front of the “two’s”. My husband and I had to come up with a method of discipline that was easy for him to understand and learn to be consistent in our response to naughty behaviour. It sounds easier than it is, believe me. I had no idea before I had a preschooler how demanding and determined they can be in trying to get their way. It can be exhausting.

“I wanted to do it myself mama!” my three-year-old cries daily. Meltdowns and tears. Smiles, belly laughs and tickles. Discoveries about life. My little man sobbed, heartbroken, when fall turned to winter because the leaves fell off the trees and our flowerbeds went dormant. This spring is a joy for him to behold. “Mama, look at the beautiful flowers!” he exclaims. He runs down to the grass closest to the busy road we live on, and as I start to run and yell his name, he stops, picks a dandelion and brings it to me. And then as he reaches up to be held, “It’s for you. I love you mama,” he sighs to my melting heart.

It’s all about a boy.