My baby is three.

THREE!!

how can that be…?

The thing he wanted most when he turned three and got all grown-up was a set of wheels. Presumably so he could make a nimble escape the next time his smothering mother came toward him with her arms wide, lamenting “How did you get to be three? Why don’t you want to hug me anymore? Come back! Stop growing!” *scooter, scooter, scooter*

Behold, his wheels.

For my birthday (on which I will turn 29… again) I will also be asking for a scooter. That way I can follow him as he tries to get away from my love. It’s going to have to have a killer set of wheels on it, because college time is just around the corner… and I may be scootering after him to an out of state school. Wait! Come back! Hug your mother!

Each morning they go out and collect the berries and peppers that have ripened overnight. I’ve already done my first batch of raspberry jam. The sunflowers now tower over Deaky. The tomatoes are still green, but they’re there in big numbers. The pumpkin vines are going nuts, and frankly I’m not sure where they plan to blaze their trails… the corner of our yard is only so big.

Looking out my window and seeing little suburban farmers in pajamas and flip flops… it’s a good way to start the day.