you're 3 today.

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant with you. We went to the bookstore so I could buy a pregnancy guide and a baby journal, and then we had a celebratory dinner at Taco Bell. If we parked in a specific area of the parking lot, we got free Cinnamon Twists! It was a good day.

The first few months I will call "Pukey Wonderland Months." I was a monthish into my pregnancy when we drove from Texas to Ohio for a vacation at your grandparents' house. I yelled/whined/griped most of the way there. Your poor, poor daddy. Give him a hug if he's nearby.

After I emerged from the Wonderland, the rest of the journey was glorious. I would lay on the couch for hours and marvel at your kicks. In my purse, I carried a 3D ultrasound photo of your face: I'd stare it, wondering about the conversations we would have and what your laugh would sound like.

For the record, your laugh is wonderful. Your great-Grandma Lou calls you a free spirit, and I would say she's pretty accurate with the label. You giggle, you squeal with joy, you run and your eyes shine... You, precious boy, are glee confined to a body.

I can't be sure you'll ever know how much your father and I adore you. We still peek at you in the rear view mirror while we're driving, and though you may think it's because we're trying to catch you eating boogers (seriously, kid- so gross), we're actually marveling at the divine gift sitting right in the back seat. Life's been a rollercoaster since we hitched our wagons together, but it's a pretty fantastic life... all because of you, the kid in the carseat next to yours, and the unfailing love of our Father.

Happy Birthday, little man.

Love, Mama