Three, thus far, is a marvel. Three is all scabby-kneed, bug-watching, tool-loving boy. Three is peeing in the potty. Three is a little bit more rational, a little bit more thoughtful, and odds-defyingly, more cuddly.

Three is "reading" books in bed by himself and coloring with deliberation and panache. Three is playing ball with other kids at the park, and at home, it's a little less Elmo and a little more Blues Clues.

Three is also, as I have come to find out these past two weeks, napless. We have dropped the nap, and, well, it's been a problem.

It's a hard nap to drop, this last one. It's a long stretch from bright-and-early to well-past-dinner-and-very-very-well-past-Finn's best hour. The past two days, though, we've turned a corner, or, if you will, crossed a bridge.

Finn no longer needs his afternoon nap, and it seems, to wimpy me, we're walking away from babyhood and toddlerdom and passing over into the world of child. Sniff.

Oh, Baby Finn, you'll live on forever in my heart.