On this day in 1991, my son was born. Due to his prenatal size, the doc said that this time his Mom should have a C-section. It turned out this was a wise decision as he was almost 11 pounds at birth.
He came into the world without the battering of uterine muscles and pushing through bony passageways that his sisters endured. No bruises, no cone-head ... just a pretty pink baby with big feet.
He's been doing things the easy way ever since.
I distinctly remember holding him and thinking, "Six years from now, I'll still have a little one in the house, Yes!" I was having such a good time with his sisters, 3 1/2 year old Kate and 2 year old Emma that the idea of an extension of this joy was a very happy thought for me.
He (they) did not let me down, and if there's anything a teaching life has given me, it's lots of rare and precious time with my kids.
So today, my baby boy is 16. Such a milestone!
I like the way he's turning out.
He's smart and very funny.
He's creative, always making films complete with script and costumes.
He picks his friends well.
He reads voraciously.
He's messy like me.
He's a sports fanatic like his Mom.
He's a cutie. I hear he's cute ... I hear that a lot from girls at the our school.
He's naturally magic on a soccer field,.
He works hard to be magic on a basketball court.
He's got a kind heart and for that I credit the dogs and other pets that have taught him well.
He's taller than me now.
He's lean and strong and likes to lift weights. I've noticed lately that on the weight machine we share, his settings are where mine are and sometimes heavier.
He grappled me in the kitchen a few weeks ago, (like Cato in the Pink Panther) and it took me a looooong time to wrap him up in a FLETC control hold ... it used to be so easy.
He's polite, a "Yes Sir, No Maam" kind of kid that gets rave reviews from the teachers and other parents who know (feed and house) him.
He's the one who reminds us to give thanks at supper time.
He's my son.