I love that Baby Boy is growing up.

I love when he comes to me, gets my attention, then walks away a step or two and turns around to make sure I’m following him.

Or when he brings me his shoes and immediately sits down so I can put them on his feet.

I love that after his shoes are on he usually walks to the door, showing me that he wants to go outside or that he knows I just said we were going to go somewhere.

I love when he wants milk to drink instead of water, he goes to the fridge door and tries to open it.

I love how excited he gets when I get the chocolate powder out of the cupboard and he knows he’s getting chocolate milk.

I love it when he walks to the counter and points to the cupboard where the M&M’s are and when I open the cupboard he promptly sits down on the floor, ready to eat his treat.

I love it when he follows his big brothers around and wants to do whatever they are doing.

I love it when he comes to me with a binky in his mouth and a mischievous look on his face, knowing that binkys are only for when he’s in bed.

I love it when he sits on “big boy” chairs and you can see that he is so proud of himself.

Most of all, I love that he still lets me rock him every night.  That he cuddles up next to me, and even if it’s only for a minute or two, in some small way, he’s telling me that he’s still my baby.