The Last Supper

At the risk of sounding blasphemous or totally dramatic (or both), last night was a big night at our house.  It was the last day my daughter would be three. The last day she would be a toddler, the last day I could still call her my "baby" without sounding like one of those nutty moms who can't let go. 

Although we have fun celebrations planned for tonight (not to mention she already had a rockin' party this weekend), we decided to commemorate last night with the thing we do best...food.

I explained to Morgan that tonight we were celebrating, celebrating the last day she was ever going to be our itty bitty punkin.  I could feel myself start to choke up as I watched her navigate dinner on her own, trying to figure out how to use chopsticks.

And as I looked on with such pride, Morgan reminded me that four is just a number. She started sucking soy sauce from the packet...

Shoved sixteen three shrimp in her mouth at the same time...

And when I asked her to smile nicely for me, Morgan promptly showed me exactly what the phrase "see food" means.

I don't know why I was even worried about her growing up too quickly. We've got plenty of time to worry about that.  Plenty.