Bug will be four years old the end of this month.
For some reason, I now feel old.
I don't have any gray hairs--the five that I have had since his birth have been duly plucked and sacrificed to the appropriate deity.
But my oldest turning four is very bittersweet for me.
I find myself looking at his chubby cherub baby picturesd and comparing that sweet face to the devil may care grin I see every day as he's running amok in my house and tormenting his baby brother.
It's hard to believe that child ever resided in my body, digging his mutant monkey toes into my sides and making me run for the bathroom to pee and/or vomit.
It's bittersweet, watching my baby on his journey to becoming a man.
No comments:
Post a Comment