Baby Days

In one week, my baby is going to be three.

Three!

And while I've done my very best to baby him, keep him fully dependent on me, it's getting hard to deny that he's growing up.

It's been months since he ditched his paci and he's nearly potty trained.  And just last week he decided cribs are so 2012 and moved on up to his big boy bed without a single, "lay with me Mama."

He uses full sentences now.  (I understand nearly every word, but the puzzled look on everyone else's faces makes it pretty clear that he still needs a translator.)

Andrew and I laugh at everything he says.

"Get out of my woooomb!"

"Don't touch me booooot!"

"I wook at Daddy's Waffle House."

Not exactly comic gold material, but when he strings those words together and shows us that, oh my goodness he's a real live person with thoughts and things to say, it's pretty unbelievable.

I've never been a parent that sneaks in after bedtime to watch her babies sleeping.

Not worth the risk of waking them up.

But I'm suddenly vividly aware that Gabe may be my last baby and the urge to watch his eyes fluttering in his dream world is overpowering.

I climb the stairs and twist the doorknob and there's my tiny little boy.  Tucked into a bed that is way, way too big for him, dreaming and snoring like a grown man.

The Baby Days go by too fast.

Way too fast.

And even though I am excited to be able to travel more and not carry a diaper bag and all the other freedoms that come with the end of the Baby Days, I already miss them.

One more week.

And then he will be three.