I’m a freak about the number 3. I always have been, ever since I was a kid. During Saturday morning cartoons in the ‘70s there was a fun little Schoolhouse Rock cartoon with a song about multiplication called “Three is a Magic Number.” And while I can’t remember the vast majority of the lyrics outright, it sort of stuck with me.

OK, it really stuck with me.

So when Caroline and I welcomed our first child into the world on March 24, 2006 (March being the third month, 24 being divisible by 3 and 2006 also having properties of 3 as 6÷2 = 3) I was most pleased.

I was elated when we were transferred upon our arrival at Harrison Silverdale after finding that the room Caroline had been scheduled to deliver in wasn’t ready. She was less than ecstatic, but when we walked into Labor and Delivery Room 9 (3×3, very lucky) I allowed myself a big smile.

This was meant to be I assured myself. Everything was going to be fine, I told Caroline.

She had gone into labor midday on the 23rd and around 11 p.m. I began thinking about how nice it would be if she made it to the 24th. Again, she was less than thrilled by the prospect of waiting any longer to bring Finn Matthew Irwin into the world — even though he was two weeks early. I, however, was elated when she did so at 2:46 a.m. as 2+4+6 = 12, which is divisible by, yes, 3.

Not surprisingly, I waited exactly three months to the day to write and run a column on our “new” arrival. I figured doing so would allow me to stay true to 3 and allow sufficient time for the fact that Caroline and I are now parents to fully sink in.

It still is.

The funny thing about having a kid is that all I really remember before March 24 is a certain amount of careless freedom in my life. If Caroline and I wanted to sleep in, catch a movie on the fly, go camping, for a day hike or to dinner with friends, we just did.

Now, not so much.

Most days we’re lucky to get to Seattle, or Silverdale for that matter, but I know it’s all temporary. And the rewards are so countless a little personal freedom seems like nothing in exchange.

Even so, a few days ago, I told my family that as soon as Finn could support his head and sit up, we’d be “putting his butt in a baby backpack and going hiking.” The look on my mom’s face was priceless.

So are babies I’m finding — poopy diapers and all. These little people are special, because everything is so new to them. It’s difficult to describe it all to people who don’t have kids and even the ones who have older children often forget how magical things were when they brought home their firstborn. Things are new for the parents as well, of course.

I find myself watching Finn wake up in the morning.

It’s quite a process.

First, like a chubby butterfly, he emerges from his swaddle cocoon for a big stretch. Maybe an exaggerated yawn. He’ll smack his lips, look around, fart a time or two and doze off again, only to repeat the above steps until he’s ready to face the day.

Being someone who is awoken by an alarm clock more often than not, I can really appreciate his lackluster technique.

I’m appreciating a lot of things more fully lately (in addition to my beautiful spouse). Finn’s smiles. His cries. When he puts his hands together or just sticks one in his mouth to (I assume) make sure they still taste the same. Changing his diapers. The way he stares in amazement at the world around him, whether it be the trees in the yard or a wall in the nursery. Soothing him when he’s upset. Watching him dose off after a busy day.

Being not only a husband, but a dad.

A man and a woman had a little baby

Yes, they did

They had three in the family

That’s a magic number.