Ethan's Jellicle Ball

 Jellicle Cats come out tonight

Jellicle Cats come one come all

The Jellicle moon is shining bright

Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball!

Okay, so it wasn't at night, there was no moon, and most of the Jellicles refused to wear their cat-ear headbands. They were also too timid to wear the blindfold and play pin-the-tail on the cat. There was, however, a trampoline, a parachute, face-painting and about two dozen rubber mice scattered around the room like eggs at Easter. It was, in spite of everything, a most delightful Jellicle Ball. T.S. Eliot would have been proud.

As the parents of a bouncing, boisterous just-turned three-year-old, the Js were also proud as punch and more than a little terrified of what colourful adjective might best match this age-group. Throttling Threes comes to mind. Thunderous also has a nicely accurate ring. But this was E's party and he could throttle and thunder if he wanted to. It took E the better part of the weekend to figure out what it meant to be three. Three meant a party, yes, with goodie-bags and Grandma and a bunch of kids who brought gifts and ate their weight in Pirate Bootie. Three meant a tower of merengues with kitty-cat faces and a candle and a song and a roomfull of adults clapping and laughing. 

Three is not a baby anymore, there's no getting around that. Three means being "a big boy" and being (almost, fingers crossed) potty-trained and wearing underoos and getting to go to preschool in the fall. Three is also the magic number of this little family, we three Rioux, and it is a tightly knit number, one both rounded and sharp. Three is knowing one another's buttons and knowing how to push them. Three is knowing, too, that we are each the only one the others will have. Three is a good, strong, supportive number. Three is a base. It's a good place to be.