When I was 24 I had a baby boy. When I was 25, I had a baby girl. I was tired, I was poor, but I was sooo happy and I ran the show. Those babies were the best time I ever had until....when I was 29 there came that last sweet girl. The three of them, and me.....sigh. Those days of looonnnggg afternoons at the park and cheerios and Play-doh, Bill Nye the Science Guy and Sesame street, Richard Scarry books and singing countless rounds of "around her head she wore a yellow ribbon...she wore it in the springtime and in the month of May...and when you asked her why the heck she wore it...she wore it for an airman who was FAR FAR AWAY........FAR AWAY.....FAR AWAY....oh she wore it for an airman who was FAR FAR AWAY" *ahem* Now those babies are all taller than me! But the baby baby is only 11, and she still likes to "get cozy" with Mama.... Nobody told me those would be some of the happiest memories of my life (actually, Mom did tell me that, but as usual, I didn't listen and had to figure that out for myself)....You just can't top the raising-your-own-babies days.... Kiss your babies tonight and breathe the sweet skin at the back of their warm necks......I love that spot.