Birthday Boy

My baby, pardon me, my youngest Thing celebrated his 8th birthday yesterday.  Whoa!  I still feel the need to refer to him as my baby.  My uterus does strange things when I am reminded that it was 8 years ago that he was in my belly.  And then it was 7 years ago that he was weaned, was air lifted and Poppi performed CPR on him, and only 6 years ago that he started riding things with wheels, down steep driveways mind you, and here we are.

 A boy, in the second grade, who is non stop until his head hits the pillow.  A boy who still calls me Mama and plays with my hair when we snuggle.  A boy who likes his back scratched at night and likes to hold my hand when we pray.  A boy who knows that Jesus is the one to talk to when he is scared or worried.  That is what he told me last night, "Jesus helped me not be scared on my motorcycle ride".  He gets it. 

He is also the impatient boy.  The one who wants it done now and isn't going to wait.  A strong willed, yet tender hearted boy. 

A boy who plays hockey, lacrosse, football, soccer, basketball.  A boy who rollerblades, skateboards, scooters, (is that a word?), rip sticks, and rides his bike.  A boy who found the joy that is ESPN this year. 

A boy who will hesitate, take inventory and then make a choice.  At least sometimes.  Of course when it comes to his sisters that's a different story altogether. 

I love this boy and I am honored and blessed to have been chosen to be his Mama.

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