Rocket boy turns three years old this Friday. I'm happy and sad and proud and teary-eyed. I'm pretty much an emotional wreck! Every birthday with him will be bittersweet because he's my number three. My youngest. My littlest. My baby.
I remember taking this picture of Rocket when he was just one week old. He had been the easiest pregnancy. The easiest delivery. The easiest recovery. The easiest baby of the three. He was the only one who didn't want to share a bed with us. The only one who preferred sleeping in the bassinet and the crib. The only one who didn't mind sitting in his swing or bouncer for long periods of time. The only one who had baby acne. The only one who sucked his thumb. The only one who was able to put himself to sleep in the crib.
I miss those baby days SO much. However, looking on the bright side, I'm that much closer to being a diaper free home. Hooray for that.
Happy belated Valentine's Day! Happy Presidents' Day! Happy week!