Three Already?

How can he be three already? Three years ago, we were still in the hospital, getting to know each other. I was drinking cup after cup of water and measuring the output, per doctor's orders. He was still wrapped like a burrito, and little did he know that a couple days later he would be forced into a frog position, wear a yellow shirt for week, and have thai-food dropped on him. (We also had to blow dry that poor shirt each time he managed to supersoak his diaper since he couldn't change clothes that first week due to his dramatic hip re-positioning.) Now he likes to sing and dance and tell stories about his trains as he pushes them around the track. Usually the stories involve statements like, "'Yes, I will help you out of the ditch,' Henry said. 'Ahh! I'm falling!'" Because, as in any good book, the narrator lets you know who is speaking. He also likes to throw the occasional temper tantrum when things don't go his way - like when his dad puts the wrong spoon in the yogurt. When he was born, we were both in shock and awe, and we loved him right away, but now I think my heart is about to burst when he calls out "mommers" and gives me five kisses in a row.