He’s 11, but still my baby

Mothers intuition is always right. Something told me to hang around the house today and work instead of going into the Picaboo office to catch up on some work. Turns out Peanuts cold was something a little more.

It’s sinus infection central here.

We’ve moved beyond the runny nose to the head stuffed full of gunk, eyes black underneath from built up fluid and full on crankiness. Woof.

But when I look at his face. That sweet face. No matter how cranky he is, I’m instantly transported back to a time when I carried him every where I went. When I stroked his face while he was nursing, massaged him after his nightly bath so he would sleep better and prayed I was being the best parent I could be to this little being I had brought into the world.

Peanut is still my baby. No matter how old he is, I’m always going to look at him and remember the first time he was placed in my arms. That day, he changed my life forever. I was no longer woman, I was mother. His mother and in the greatest role I would ever play. I was given this gift and am forever bound by love and more. He’s my partner. My compadre. He shares my wacky sense of humor and talks to me. Really talks.

I see the signs of him maturing. He’s getting taller. His face it starting to break out. Soon, his voice will start to change, his face will mature and he will grow into a man. But no matter what happens, no matter what he does….he’ll always be my baby.

Just don’t tell him I told you.

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