Three and Thirty

At 3 months, he is my angel child. 
Happy, peaceful, and adorable.

At 30 months, she is my wild child. 
Fiesty, impetuous, and unpredictable.

At 3 months, he coos and gurgles, and makes the most delicious baby sounds.

At 30 months, she sings her own songs, adding new verses to existing rhymes, or fitting different words to familiar tunes. She 'reads', tells stories, and is constantly telling everyone in the household what to do, how, and when.

At 3 months, he lies in his rocker waiting quietly for someone to come over to him and chat, rewarding them with a gummy smile and a full body wriggle of excitement when they do.

At 30 months, she has a full scale meltdown if  she doesn't get what she wants within a nanosecond of her ordering it.

At 3 months, he has his meals with lip-smacking, boob-thumping enthusiasm.

At 30 months, her meals give the term 'dinner theatre' a whole new meaning.

At 3 months, he stares adoringly into my face as I prop him up against my knees and sing to him American Idol style, complete with funny facial expressions and hand gestures.

At 30 months, she watches my performance critically for all of 5 seconds before commanding, 'Mama, don't sing!'

At 3 months, he shows no interest in wanting to turn or roll, lying peacefully on his playmat, observing his own hands and his sister's antics with interest.

At 30 months, she roams the house carrying a high plastic stool, so that she can be 'big and tall' and reach all sorts of forbidden places.

At 3 months, he perks up at the sound of music, smiling and 'singing' along with little grunts and sighs.

At 30 months, she picks a beat on the electronic keyboard and yells out: 'Ebbybody dance!', boogying with such enthusiasm and style as to get even her double left-footed father to join her.

At 3 months, his eyes flick open from the deepest sleep at the sound of her voice. His eyes follow her around the room, and his brightest smiles are always for her. 

At 30 months, she has not yet made up her mind whether she likes this big sister gig. 

At 3 months, he is a cuddly bundle of happiness, radiating contentment and that milky baby smell.

At 30 months, she is a prickly ball of energy, her sunny charm inexplicably transforming into stormy rage with alarming suddenness.

Three and thirty. Together, they are exhausting, entertaining, and utterly endearing.