For whatever reason, the number 100 always makes me think of small things. Maybe it’s just that what I remember best about the number 100 is “100 day” at school. Small things like pasta, buttons, beans, or pennies spilled across desks, neatly lined up in rows, or piled in clumps of 10. On Tuesday I watched my 100th small baby take his first breath of air and begin life outside the safety of his mother’s womb. As the midwife handed me the slippery little guy and I laid him across his mothers stomach and rubbed him dry with a blanket, the fact that this marked my attendance at my 100th birth didn’t even cross my mind. It wasn’t until much later as I sat down with my record book and started writing in the details that I recognized the milestone. I flipped back page after page in my book recognizing names and comments that I had written – details that seemed like they just happened yesterday. As the weeks continue to flash by at record speed, I anticipate that number will double quickly, and hopefully the wisdom that comes along with experience.