My younger son has always been little, despite wanting to be big. He shoved his way into the world three-and-a-half weeks early, being born at a mere five and a half pounds. He didn’t pass zero percent on the growth chart until he was a year old. And he’s the baby of the family. So my nickname for him is Little Bird.
Little Bird just turned three years old.
In the spirit of Sandra Boynton’s classic board book Little Pookie, where the small pig’s mom tells them 10 things she knows about them, here are ten things I know about Little Bird (as written to him, as in the book) on the occasion of his third birthday:
