Peace, man.

My son turned three on Saturday. He technically doesn't turn three until Tuesday, but his party was Saturday. If you ask him how old he is, he'll hold up three fingers. Which makes it official.

I can't even remember my life before him. It's as if nothing else really came into focus until three years ago. And he gets so much more amazing every single day. I know that sounds cliche, and every mother says that about her child, but it's so true.

He is incredible.

His party had a 60's-hippie-toddler vibe to it, thanks to the peace sign/hippie bus paper plates and napkins Target had on sale about 3 months ago in celebration of Woodstock's 40th Birthday. We were complete with homemade wife-beaters, and drawn-on tattoos done in washable marker, which I now know will totally rub off with sweat.

And instead of holding up his two fingers and saying "Peace, man," he proudly holds up three.