Oh my darling sweet little boy. The one who makes my heart beat, who makes my every day brighter. Today, he turned twelve years old.
How can that be? When did this happen? And where is my sweet little baby?
Twelve whole years.
Twelve years of watching him grow, and laugh, and learn.
Twelve years of teaching him, and learning from him.
Twelve years of fart jokes, and bedtime hugs and kisses.
We are on the cusp on a whole new way of life. He is almost a teenager, getting ready to stretch his wings and test his independance. But that's ok.
Because he has shown me in these first twelve years what kind of man he is going to become.
And he will be a great one.
Today, he is just twelve years old.
He still lets me hold his hand when we walk down the street.
He still wants to be tucked in every night (unless he has friends over, then he'll come get his hugs and kisses from me in private).
He's still small enough for me to pick up and squeeze (though just barely.)
He is only twelve.