This morning Sam announced that he is “Fhree.“  It is in fact his third birthday today, so he was right, technically speaking.  He is “Fhree,“ or three, depending upon how you choose to pronounce the word.  Happy birthday, Sam!  I’ve never felt quite so Mommy-ish as when I dropped off chocolate chip cookies for his camp class to eat in celebration of his birthday.  Sam was thrilled with all the attention, exclaiming, “My birthday is here!“  By the end of the day, though, he was all savvy about the birthday business, declaring, “I want a better present!“

It’s sure has been one big blur since my OB Dr. Wiles first handed him over to me, saying, “Here you go! The easy part is over now!“  Oh, was he ever right!  I guess he knew from personal experience, having raised two kids of his own.  On the flip side, though, as a man he has never had to suffer through labor.  Even after God-awful contractions and all the rest, though, I still do have to agree with him.  Delivery seems like a vacation (well, almost) compared to the day-to-day demands of being a parent of a small child.  Hey, at least you have people waiting on you, even if they are geared up in rubber gloves up to their elbows.

Happy third birthday to you— Sam, Saminator, Sam Macky, Buglet, Buggy, Bug, Bugaboo, Boo Boo!

I love you into infinity and beyond!  Now go clean up your toys, you big three-year-old!  And while we are at it, let’s lose those diapers and that cowbell called a pacifier!

LibbY

PS Party details on the infamous Fire Fightin’ Pirate Train Party to follow…