happy birthday, wee man!

Happy third birthday, bud.

I remember the night before you were born. I tucked Miss O in her bed, read her stories, and as soon as I walked out her bedroom door I burst into tears. You see, that was the last time it was going to be just the three of us. I was sad because I'd never have the chance again to sit with her as long as she wanted me to, because there'd be another person to care for.

What was I ever worried about?

You are such a wonderful, happy child. You are the wise soul who can find fun in almost any situation. You are the silly soul who can reduce others to tears...of laughter...at the drop of a hat.

You are the master of physical comedy.

You charm the pants off everyone you meet. (I sortakinda hope you grow out of this one, it could be a problem later on in life. And I know you don't know what I mean right now, but one day you will.)

You peed your pants whilst sitting in this crate of gourds.
We totally pretended we didn't know.

You are an awesome helper. You love to work. You live to work. The best part is, you work and help with a cheery disposition. Are you the new PollyAnna? You know, except for the whole boy thing?

You mug like a professional.

Again, with the mugging.

And riding the trike? You rock.

I hope you like your presents, and the dinner you chose: steak, steak sauce (it is its own item), carrots, broccoli, olives, and white rice. Also ice cream sandwiches, sweeties, and cake.

The best present ever.