Today is my toddler's birthday - he's 3!
Last night as I held him and "stole" kisses and hugs from him, I told him, "You have to let me kiss you! You're almost not my baby anymore!" And it's true . . . he's *thisclose* to being completely potty-trained (we're lazy trainers), finally enjoying books and "reading" them, doing all the things a just-turned-three-year-old should be doing. His baby fat is almost melted away.
But there's good news! I have 2 older kids (just-turned 9 and almost 11) and I am happy to report that it took many years for me to stop seeing "baby" in them. I mean, I still do - I can instantly see the way they looked as babies . . . and when they sleep I get a little verklempt looking at them. They'll all always be my babies.
But this one . . . he's my BABY. For a while, at least.
My oldest, Kori:
She and her brother really are best friends and have been since the beginning. (Of course they fight like crazy as well).
Here’s Bennett, the middle child.
Rian . . . not even due for 3 months! DANG.
Happy Birthday, Rian! We’re so glad you’re a part of our family.