Oh, Gabe.

At least 100 times a day I hear myself say, "Oh, Gabe."

Sometimes it's tucked inside a chuckle and sometimes it escapes alongside an exasperated sigh of pure exhaustion.

The boy is adorable but he is b-u-s-y!

He was such a mild mannered baby.

Sweet and funny and eager to please.

And then he turned three.  

He's still a tiny lover boy and keeps me laughing, but three brought with it a will that's stronger then Goliath.

Gabe knows what he wants and he wants it now and he's not afraid to go face down on the floor squealing in protest to let you know when he isn't pleased.  I don't even want to think about how long it's been since that floor saw a mop.

Last weekend Josie spent the night at her Nana's house and Andrew had a day full of work and meetings so Gabe and I had a wide open schedule.  

Just the two of us.

We don't have much one on one time together.

Gabe finally outgrew his 18 month pants so we had a good excuse to do some shopping.  We headed to the outlet mall to burn some energy (and a bit of Daddy's paycheck).  It was gorgeous outside so we decided to walk the whole thing.  

Y'all, Gabe is a flirt.  Majorly.

And he's pretty much the funniest boy I've ever gone shopping with.

The day was so good for my heart.  He can be a handful and I needed this reminder of how sweet his spirit is.  How much he makes me laugh and makes my heart skip a beat with those eyes that pretty much guarantee the lady at the bakery will give him an extra cookie.

He was on his best behavior, not a floor licking episode in sight.  We talked about planes and birds and why he couldn't have "just a wittle" of all the lotions at Bath and Body Works.  It was awesome.

And two minutes out of the parking lot, I peeked in the rear view mirror and felt my heart swell so big I was afraid it might burst.

My baby.  Opinionated, loud, dirty, and at times slightly aggravating, but my baby none the less.

Oh, Gabe.

I love you so much it hurts.  But it hurts in the best way possible.