Three

Today my Baby Bubba turns three years old. We had grand plans of celebrating this kind, laid-back little man with special foods, an outing to feed some giraffes, and some construction work with his new tools, but sadly he gets to spend his birthday with a 104.7 fever and a dry, hoarse cough.

Our poor sweet Hen, what a crummy way to kick off your third year.

The amazing thing about this guy, though, is that he'll still be just as loving and sweet, despite it all.

So we'll trade the special foods for oatmeal and he'll be just as happy. We'll swap getting out for staying in, probably piled on top of each other on the couch (Audrey's still under the weather, too), and he won't mind. We'll put off working outside until another day when he's on the mend, and that'll be OK too.

At least there's a silver lining- if not for this, there's probably no other way I'd get to spend his birthday holding him... and that's what this Mama really wants for this landmark day. Wishing he were well, but glad to hold him a little more than usual.

Happy birthday Henry Warden, we will totally have a do-over when you're feeling better.