A Perfect 10

My baby has reached a milestone. Double digits. 10. Wow. He's not technically "the baby" but he's my baby. He was the first to initiate us into parenthood. The first difficult delivery. The first hospitalization. The first late night feedings. The first smile. The first, first steps. The first dancer. The first brother. The first, first day of school. The first child I loved.

When I remember the baby years, I see my nephew pushing him in a tonka truck. Dancing in the dining room to Nsync. Splashing in a bucket as if it were a pool. An ever-present smile and an infectious wit that was evident very early.

He walks and talks like his dad, loves fishing like his grandfathers, not a morning person and enjoys quiet time like his mom but has an independent personality all his own. He is unaffected and oblivious to what is popular. He is peculiar and pleasing. He makes his own path. He's an old soul and a kid at heart. He's red-headed freckles and smiles. He's a grouch and a comedian. He's our son. He is loved.

He's "been waiting his whole life"(direct quote)to turn 10. I'm wondering how his whole life thus far has passed so quickly. I longed for this age but now want to press rewind. He's maturing and transforming. I see glimpses of the man he will become. I am proud. We celebrate his life. He's a perfect 10.