Not the baby

A three year old child is a being who gets almost as much fun out of a fifty-six dollar set of swings as it does out of finding a small green worm.  ~B. Vaughan

You're three! Three! Too old to call my baby anymore. Even you insist you're a "boy" now to anyone who dare say otherwise. You're independent, headstrong, and so, so, smart. I laugh at something you say every day. The questions you ask and the phrases you use blow me away sometimes. I love to hear you count, and say your letters and numbers. I can see your personality out on a daily basis now. Glimpses of the man you'll grow up to be. You love to smile and to use that smile to weasel out of getting in trouble, and you definitely are a handful at times!  You're my helper in everything we do; cooking, shopping, driving. You even have an opinion on the clothes I pick out and try on. I love that you get songs stuck in your head and will sing them to yourself while you're playing. And I love that you still snuggle. At least you're not too old for your mom, yet. Happy Birthday sweet Little Bear!