Today is Number Three Nephew's birthday. He is now seven years old.
He's a very special Peanut, this Three; he has a way about him that goes right to your heart.
He's got a very well-developed sense of humour, with a real knack for telling a joke. He's got timing down pat, and is able to deliver a line that can make you spit your juice across the supper table. (I've seen it happen)
Three has a wonderful, Disney-worthy voice. Not just his own voice, which sounds perfect for a wise-beyone-his-years cartoon character, but he's able to 'do' voices very well, too. Need someone to voice a cranky crocodile? Three's your boy! Have a stalwart superhero in need of some spunk? Three can do it, no problem!
From his earliest days, Three made people work for it, and he had a finely-tuned intuition into people. Older folk would coo over him, begging for smiles, and he would gaze back at them, assessing them, often delivering his judgement - like the time he called a fellow a bad man, or told a woman at the beach she needed to put her clothes on.
While naturally athletic, he tends to hang back when undertaking a new activity, like swimming or riding a two-wheeler He observes carefully how it's done, then he will practice on his own until he's on his way to mastery. Over the winter he developed a passion for hockey, and would spend hours in the basement doing ball drills for hours at a time. Now, soccer is his consuming passion, and at every opportunity is to be found outdoors, shooting the ball against a fence. He's showing signs of real footballing intelligence - understanding where the ball is going to be, and where it should be, and how to move himself around while controlling the ball.
Three doesn't have much of his very own. 'Having' things isn't important to him, and it gives him pleasure to share what he does have. When taken out of school to spend a special day with Mama and Papa Nut, he was intent on bringing somethig home for his brothers, so they could share in his gift.
While being very close to his brothers, he's not an overly demonstrative sort. While he may burst into a room asking "Where are my brothers?", he will also squirm and whimper if he has to share a bed, because they are touching him.
He is a very tender-hearted soul: when USA lost the gold medal hockey game in Vancouver 2010, he cried for them. He's not shy to express his happiness: each time Germany scored a goal over Argentina in the World Cup 2010 quarter final game (four times!) he leapt into my arms, overcome with joy.
One of the favourite stories from Peanut Family Lore is from when they went to Disney. Three was actually three years-old, and he walked and walked and walked, from one end of the kingdom to the other without complaint or fatigue.
He used to call the Dollar Store the Weapon Store, because they stock foam swords and plastic water guns. He used to point out 'army guys' in any book we read, managing to find the one and only gun-carrying Indian in a book about early America.
He's a soldier in the making, beloved Three. May God bless his fierce heart with courage and conviction.
He's a very special Peanut, this Three; he has a way about him that goes right to your heart.
He's got a very well-developed sense of humour, with a real knack for telling a joke. He's got timing down pat, and is able to deliver a line that can make you spit your juice across the supper table. (I've seen it happen)
Three has a wonderful, Disney-worthy voice. Not just his own voice, which sounds perfect for a wise-beyone-his-years cartoon character, but he's able to 'do' voices very well, too. Need someone to voice a cranky crocodile? Three's your boy! Have a stalwart superhero in need of some spunk? Three can do it, no problem!
From his earliest days, Three made people work for it, and he had a finely-tuned intuition into people. Older folk would coo over him, begging for smiles, and he would gaze back at them, assessing them, often delivering his judgement - like the time he called a fellow a bad man, or told a woman at the beach she needed to put her clothes on.
While naturally athletic, he tends to hang back when undertaking a new activity, like swimming or riding a two-wheeler He observes carefully how it's done, then he will practice on his own until he's on his way to mastery. Over the winter he developed a passion for hockey, and would spend hours in the basement doing ball drills for hours at a time. Now, soccer is his consuming passion, and at every opportunity is to be found outdoors, shooting the ball against a fence. He's showing signs of real footballing intelligence - understanding where the ball is going to be, and where it should be, and how to move himself around while controlling the ball.
Three doesn't have much of his very own. 'Having' things isn't important to him, and it gives him pleasure to share what he does have. When taken out of school to spend a special day with Mama and Papa Nut, he was intent on bringing somethig home for his brothers, so they could share in his gift.
While being very close to his brothers, he's not an overly demonstrative sort. While he may burst into a room asking "Where are my brothers?", he will also squirm and whimper if he has to share a bed, because they are touching him.
He is a very tender-hearted soul: when USA lost the gold medal hockey game in Vancouver 2010, he cried for them. He's not shy to express his happiness: each time Germany scored a goal over Argentina in the World Cup 2010 quarter final game (four times!) he leapt into my arms, overcome with joy.
One of the favourite stories from Peanut Family Lore is from when they went to Disney. Three was actually three years-old, and he walked and walked and walked, from one end of the kingdom to the other without complaint or fatigue.
He used to call the Dollar Store the Weapon Store, because they stock foam swords and plastic water guns. He used to point out 'army guys' in any book we read, managing to find the one and only gun-carrying Indian in a book about early America.
He's a soldier in the making, beloved Three. May God bless his fierce heart with courage and conviction.
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