Calvin recently turned 3. I have come to realize that 3 is a hard age for mothers, especially when it is her "baby" turning 3. He is no longer a baby. He is making the transition to "big boy". He calls himself a "big boy" now. He has a new room and a new bed. No more crib. No more changing table. He drinks from a cup, no more lid. Soon, he will be done with diapers and pull ups. He gave up his pacifier by himself when he moved into the crib.
When I look at Calvin, this is what I see. Visions of the past.
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| He was the most serious baby ever. He is still pertty serious but finally laughs! |
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| My baby! |
I have to remind myself that this is what the rest of the world sees.
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| He requested a spider man cake - even though he knows nothing about spider man. He got lots of spider man toys for his birthday! |
He still demands to be carried more than he should be. He's too old to be carried. But he is my baby and he won't be carried forever. Plus, it keeps me strong and my arms in great shape!
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