He’s three and a half today. He’s successfully potty trained now, but he still takes a bottle and insists I sit with him. I tend to greet every maturity milestone with excitement and pride, rather than sadness, which is pretty unusual if my facebook feed is to be believed. I don’t sniff sniff when the baby weans, or loses a tooth. But I think this bottle is his last tie to babyhood. As he told me himself when resisting the potty, “When I grow UP I’m going to do it.” So, I’m not rushing it. He’ll grow up eventually. And doesn’t he look sweet?