Yesterday, my baby turned 3 years old.

Actually, now that he’s 3, I don’t really think I can call him my baby anymore. And that right there makes me want to cry.

I have no idea how 3 years went by so quickly, but they did. It seems like just yesterday I was holding my HUGE 8 lbs. 11 oz. little man. And yes, he was huge compared to Buddy, who was 6 lbs. 10 oz. I remember thinking that Buster was like having a 3 month old, and already, on that very day that he was born, I began to feel sadness about him growing up. It seemed that as soon as he was born, he was already growing too fast for me.

Everything has been that way with Buster. By the time he was 6 months old, he was crawling, climbing, and already had 6 teeth. He has always been in an extreme hurry to grow up. And I? I’ve been hoping and wishing he’d just slow down already (except for potty training…he could move warp speed on that one and I’d be ecstatic!).