We had a deal. He promised he was going to try and stay 4. But last Monday came and went, and when I looked at him in bed, all tuckered out from a day full of fun and fries, he was no longer my Little Guy, but my Big Boy.

The day before, at one point during lunch, I found myself alone on one side of the table, facing my three fellow moms. One was cradling her 7-month old, one wrangled with her 1-year old as she entered the final week of maternity leave, and one revealing to us her ripening belly (not literally). And my youngest is now 5 years old. I feel like I've officially entered another stage of my life and motherhood...perhaps the stage of no-return: "Oh God, I hope they turn out okay." In truth, this stage feels more to me like I'm supposed to exhale and look forward (although I've been totally sentimental lately, reflecting on all my kids' younger days). And make sure they're not embarrassed to kiss their parents on the lips in front of their friends. Oh yes, people, I am that kind of mom.

Happy Birthday to my favourite little boy...