Right down at this face.
Not just because it’s a fabulous photo depicting someone with impeccable taste in athletic teams while also demonstrating the fact that I am winning in motherhood now that I’ve successfully convinced my children to do my bidding, but because he looks so 11.
Which is as surprising as it is expected, since tomorrow he will celebrate his 11th year of living awesomely.
I look at him sometimes, his head hovering dangerously close to my own, and I lose my breath. Like, my ability to actually inhale and exhale completely escapes me. Because he’s so beautiful. And so big. And, just so, so… big.
I don’t even know where the last 11 years scampered off to so quickly. I feel the same, but I know that also, I can’t be, because he’s here and all big and different and stuff.
When I found out I was having him and that he was going to be a him, I was not even remotely aware of how much I was going to love him. And, need him. And rejoice in the opportunity to just sit on his bed at night and listen to him tell me some crazy geeky story about something crazy geeky.
Even when he’s acting all broody, and moody, and 11, I can’t imagine what life would be like if I didn’t get to have him. And know him. And learn how to be a better human while also being his ridiculously cool mom.
I guess we both got lucky.
Maybe me slightly more than he…
*I’m linking up with Mama Kat and her seriously world famous Writer’s Workshop.