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My youngest, Sweet Boy#3, is 2.5 years old. And he is growing up way way waywayway faster than both Sweet Boy#1 and Sweet Boy#2. Sweet Boy#1 was 3.5 before we ever even got him a tricycle and 5 before we got him a bike. Sweet Boy#3 started riding his brother’s old tricycle this summer and has been asking me to push him around on Sweet Boy#2’s training wheel bike all summer. But not one to sit upon his laurels, my youngest shocked us all this week when he asked me to lift him onto Sweet Boy#2’s bike as always, except this time he rode it. All by himself. Around and around and around the sports-court shouting back at me in triumph: “Momma, don’t help! Don’t help!!!” Not only has The Hunky Hubby removed the last baby gate from our home (all 3 boys can open it by themselves and all of our summer staff are forever becoming trapped by it and requiring assistance) but now the tricycle stage is quickly coming to a close. Ah life, so sweet and ferocious. Much like Sweet Boy#3.


I promise you a crazed animal, a concussion, and a kiss in every single're welcome!

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