This past weekend my little man turned three. I don't quite know how that happened, but it did. Somehow before my very eyes my small little baby with the pineapple shaped head turned in to a super cute blond little man. Although I think he is the greatest little person I know with such a sweet and loving disposition, he can sometimes push me to the limits of sanity. I am thinking this is what three year olds are suppose to do though. In those moments where he is pitching a fit, or refusing to use the potty, or crying about something not going his way, I long for the times when he was a baby and would snuggle on my chest for hours. I feel that at times I mourn for the baby that he used. That is until he comes bounding up to me and looks at me with his bright blue eyes and says "Momma, your my best friend, I love you" and gives me a hug and a kiss. Then any sadness about the loss of my baby is no more, because a baby can't say I love you (or throw a tantrum, but that is another post).