Happy Birthday!

I can't believe my baby is 3. Three years ago, he was a newborn snuggled into a blanket and knit cap; now he runs, jumps, knows letters and numbers and colors, sings, and tells us exactly what he wants.

I love to watch him grow and change--and at the same time, part of me wanted to underline these words when I read them in an Alice Munro short story recently: "They grow up. For a mother there's always waiting this private slightly ridiculous desolation. They'll forget this time, in one way or another they'll disown you. Or hang around till you don't know what to do about them...." I want him to grow up--and I want to pause time and hold onto these moments: the boy sticking his finger in chocolate icing, or raptly riding the carousel at the zoo, or dancing around the living room to his birthday CD.