Pep rallies and cardboard boxes

The wedding we went to this past Saturday was an eye-opener, or maybe a snoozer. I'm not sure which. To my Catholic friends out there, I don't say this to enter into a theological tug-of-war, but: weird (as an aside, I'll tell you that the Catholic priest who performed the ceremony is married and has three kids – an Episcopalean transfer). Through the pomp and circumspect, however, like all weddings seem to do, it was like a sort of pep rally for those already married. There were snippets of reminders about what we should be striving for.

Such words are lost on the newly christened love birds, I think, because the novelty of marriage often provides enough power to get through and beyond the honeymoon. I'm not much of a believer in renewing vows (once they're said once it should be enough), but after time passes, those vows are things we need to remember. The "work" that is marriage kicks in, as does the need to remain committed, loving and in love. Other things try to weasel in on time that was formerly spent blissfully and solely on romance. Though some dismiss the physical relationship as an afterthought, making love is a romance-refresher than resets the emotions and puts them on the straight and narrow path of togetherness. It all works together to keep a marriage fresh and on track. So does leaving the kid(s) with a sitter and having regular dates.

All these things are just words unless set into motion, however. And as I mentioned before, there's that ever-present weasel.

That's not the segueway I was shooting for when I turn my words to the Cutlet. He is anything but a weasel. He is a concrete manifestation of the love in my marriage, and serves as a constant reminder that life can be grand. He will be 3 the day after Christmas, which cliché as it is, just totally blows my mind. Why, just yesterday the nurse handed him to me – all 7 pounds of him – wrapped up like a chimichanga with a tiny knit cap on his head. Now he's more than 30 pounds, about 3 and 1/2 feet tall and doesn't sit still for long unless he's watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or one of the other movies he's seen at least 500 times. He is our most prized accomplishment, and if I was assured that a second child would be 98 percent wonderful as he is, we'd already be "working" on another one. Yeah, like that's actually work.

But for now, we're just content with our family. Three is a magic number. He is proof that an only child in this day and age can be well-adjusted, outgoing and polite. WARNING: Blatant kid-picture follows!