In Which Maggie Makes The Magic Number Her Own

We all know that at this point, I owe the world, like, six months worth of The Tale Of Tillmans, and it's coming. When I only blog occasionally, you all get bombarded by these Cats In The Cradle posts about how fast the kids are growing up, and no one wants to be subjected to my weeping and wailing and sentimentalizing abruptly and out of context. However, while we are waiting for me to get it together in the catch-up department, Maggie is celebrating her threehood. I am having trouble believing that she can really be three, even though the evidence is currently snoring away in my spot in the big bed. Maggie has become so tall, and so articulate, and so self-possessed, it blows me away. She has taken her crazily opinionated personality and molded it into a serene, independent confidence that I admire and am proud of and cannot possibly hope to emulate. She is magical, and while I mourn daily that the baby in her is melting away with such alarming rapidity, I feel so very lucky to know the fierce, funny, sassy little girl that is forming in that baby's place. Happy Birthday, Maggie Moon. We love you.