my baby is 3

For his birthday, Lincoln wanted to play at the dragon park, ride the horsie on the Carousel, and eat pizza, so that's what we did. (Can you find him in the pic?) And I'm not going to lie. I was proud of the way the stegosaurus cake turned out! I think I can say this because I have never experienced any level of success in birthday-cake making. Of course, I had a wee bit of help from Jed. ;) All day long Link sang happy birthday to "Stegosaurus." (The boys are being dinosaurs)

Lincoln. Sunshine boy. Little goose, raggy bear, snugger, peaceful guy. Does a hilarious crusty face. Asks questions all day. “Whaz dat?” I will supply the answer. Then “oh,” in a tone that sounds like his little universe now makes perfect sense. In prayers goes through the gamut of animals, thanking God for them all. Adores Yoda, anything Star Wars, including “Jabba Dabba Hut.” Scribbles and colors and creates for hours at a time. So happy. So lovey. Is inseparable from big brother yet plays independently. Hums to himself, his own little tune. Gives the best woodpecker kisses, always purposefully placed. Calls himself “T-Rex” and “Yoda” and “Leen-ton” and his brother “Isaat.”

I don’t get angry at this kid often, but one day I was upset about something completely unrelated but very unfairly blew up at him. I don’t even remember what it was about. But I vividly recall hollering at him. He stopped in his tracks. Dropped his head. Quietly lifted his gaze. Then a whisper, “I-uv-oo, Mommy.”

That was all. Uninvited—on his own—when I was least deserving of it. All blended together into one sound, “I-uv-oo,” but unmistakably clear and sweeter than any other sound I have ever heard.

And it happened to be his very first time saying it.