My baby is 3 years old today.  I'm not sure who pushed fast forward but here we are 3 years later with a toddler who runs like an Olympian, fights like a beast, and hugs like a grizzly.  And when did he get a neck?  It's like one day he had a ring of chub where his neck should be and the next day, bam, there it was- a long lean neck!  Luke was so small when he was born.  His features seemed so petite.  Now my little man is strong and quick, an athlete in the making.  Lucas can worm himself out of most sticky situations just by showing his cheeky little grin.  He is charming, sly, and a force to be reckoned with.  Something you may not know about Lucas is that he has an extra front tooth.  We've considered having it removed, but why?  The extra front tooth and his freakishly rock hard calves make for excellent conversation starters. "Wow, your son has amazingly muscular gams!" says stranger. "I know.  He has his father's physique," I reply.  This conversation has never actually taken place, but it could have.  If you have children, then you know that 2 is really as bad as "they" say it is.  Lucas is never satisfied and he means the exact opposite of everything he says.  I don't have to go to the bathroom means I have to go to the bathroom.  I want milk in my cereal means I don't want milk in my cereal.  The list could go on and on, but I think you get what I'm saying.  I sometimes get frustrated and rub my temples in a rhythmic motion for hours on end, but in between each exasperated exhale is an "I'm glad you choose me to be your momma" inhale.  And I mean that with every ounce of my being. Namaste, Lucas Wayne Bergen and Happy 3rd Birthday!