Another year has trickled by.
Fifteen years to be exact.
The boy.
The Man Child.
It is every father’s dream to have a son….the one to carry on the family name.
This is my third child. The easy one. The one that rolls with the punches. The one you hope you don’t forget at the Mall. It was an awful pregnancy. I can’t even describe the sickness. It wasn’t morning sickness….it was twenty four hour a day sickness. It was I had to be hospitalized sickness. In the words of my physician, it was “This is a healthy-pregnancy-with-no-worries type of sickness.” Yeah, he tried to convince me how healthy the pregnancy was, as I continually threw up everything and anything whether I was sitting, walking, sleeping, driving, cooking……
And then…..there he was.
Our Man Child.
He slept....
....and slept.
He slept everywhere and anywhere he could find a place to lay his head.
Remember how I mentioned the third child is the one you don’t want to forget someplace? It could have easily happened with this one….until he started to talk.
Remember how I mentioned the third child is the one you don’t want to forget someplace? It could have easily happened with this one….until he started to talk.
And he was boy.
Oh sure, his sisters would dress him up…
he even had his favorite blue tu-tu.
But the boy was always in there.
He was poked in the eye with sticks.
Not once, but twice, by the same best friend as they played with their “swords”.
He built things with his dad.
He learned to hunt.
He survived boyhood and is growing toward manhood.
He is mechanically minded.
He is a learner.
He is a doer.
He is meant for great things.
Happy birthday to my Man-Child!
I send you my hugs and my love for all of your days on this earth.
May you fly high your entire life....
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