I still remember the sight of those dimples in the hospital the day you were born.
You have used them well these three years to convince me of just one more drink of water,
one more question, one more kiss.
Or maybe I'm just a softie like Dad claims.
But who can resist your dramatic expressions complete with arms crossed,
your wide-eyed look of delight, your tender snuggles, or your wolverine bed-head?
The whole day was a celebration of you.
Present Time! Close your eyes...
Then came Dad's present ... and this face of pure adoration.
The Packers indoctrination is in full swing and obviously effective, as you separate your crayons into green and yellow for the Packers and red and blue for the yucky Giants and 49ers.
The night ended with the highly-anticipated Sponge Bob wrapped presents from Mom mom and Grandpa that had taunted from that high shelf for three days.
You are such a joy in our lives.
And we will hold you to your promise: "You can still call me Mr. Babes when I'm four."
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