Yesterday, he was born.
Credit Regetis Photography
Today, he is 3.
Tomorrow, he will be 13, and no longer whisper to me as his eyelids get heavy in the dark of his room, “Mommy, stay. I just want to snuggle with you.”
He won’t ask, “Mommy? Are you a princess?” when he sees me try on a new dress.
He won’t exclaim, “You’re having an Idea Emergency!” when he hears me swear at the stroller that won’t fold so I can shove it back in the car.
Tomorrow he will grow up, finally get to run off with those “fwiends!”
But today, he is 3. And he’s still all mine.
(Marking this one as uncategorized because I haven’t come up with a category to replace the Terrific Terrorist Twos.)