Little man, I’ll let you in on a not-so-little secret: After your mama took this photo, she snuck back to her computer FIVE DIFFERENT TIMES to stare at it. Because, you see, I am JUST SO IN AWE OF YOU.

Yes, I said it. In complete and utter awe that I MADE YOU. Made this tiny bundle that is getting cuter (which I didn’t think possible), livelier and more fun with every day that passes. Getting to Month Three has been such an amazing milestone—it’s as if we’ve been pedaling a bike (in wrong gear, I might add) up Fussy Time Hill and finally, you and I (and your dad, because he loves a good bicycling metaphor) have made it to the top and can put our feet up to coast for a bit.

You are just SO different from a month ago (and not just physically, because I look at your two month portrait and WHOA…next thing I know, you’ll be ready to head off to college on me!) You’re just all-around more curious and in tune with your environment. Take, for instance, your hands. This month is when you realized those little digits that flail around you are attached to your body. And then decided to spend the majority of your waking hours sucking on them. We think you’re thisclose to landing on that thumb, but for now, you like the thumb-index finger combo for your post-dinner enjoyment.

You’ve also found your voice. Your Grandma Marilyn came to stay with us for a while since I had to go back to work and she and I would laugh at your shrieks and coos and babbles. You’re talking to us now, and I’m more than happy to talk back, my son.

It’s awesome that you’re becoming more independent, happily cooing away on your activity mat or in your rocker as you allot us wedges of time to make dinner or take a shower uninterrupted by your cries. It’s also wonderful you’ve started sleeping in your crib at night (you still love a good swaddle … until 4 a.m., when the grunts from your room tip us off to the fact you’re no longer a fan of the straight-jacket method of infantile slumber). But here’s what I didn’t expect six weeks ago—six weeks that now feel so far away, as if they happened in some sort of time warp: I already miss that little newborn son of mine. Do you remember him? The one who needed to be rocked to sleep? Who never let us put him down?

Now your dad and I lay you in your crib at night, kiss that fuzzy head of yours, and, an hour later, find ourselves missing you already. Because each and every day, you’re less and less a version of that infant and more and more the vision of a growing (adorable…I mean, have you seen this photo of yourself?!) baby boy. Is there any wonder that parenthood is one of life’s most bittersweet adventures? Someday, I hope you, too, will understand.

Until next month,

Your mama

Each month I write a letter to my darling son. If you’d like to read more, check out the “Letters to Dean” category of the blog.