Happy Birthday my sweet son.
Nineteen years ago you came into my life.
After 3 days of labor.
The first two were delivered in 2 hours, start to finish. You were different. I started active labor on July 4th. I thought you'd be a 4th of July baby. They sent me home. I went into the hospital again on the 5th. Home again. On the 6th I was quite tired of labor and decided I was going to camp in the waiting room if they didn't admit me. They did. Quite late in the day you finally arrived.
All 9lbs 2oz of you.
Grandma bought a very very cute tuxedo onesie for you. For your hospital newborn picture.
In newborn size, of course.
We were able to squeeze you into it, but couldn't button up the back.
You were never able to wear it again.
You cried alot your first year here.
Alot.
No, you weren't colicky. You just wanted to be held.
Anyone would do. And we did.
After your tearful first year you were a delight. You had (still have) and infectious laugh. You were energetic (read hyper). You stole the heart of everyone that met you. You still do.
You were always a good boy. Always eager to please.
You still are.
You never did the terrible two's. You were not a difficult teenager. You rarely give me cause for worry. You look after me and take care of me when I'm not feeling well. Bringing me soup even when I say I'm not hungry.
You make great kettle corn.
You are a good daddy to Frankie (the pug). Because of you I fell in love with pugs.
I thought they were goofy looking dogs and not really all that cute.
You were right. They are awesome dogs and I'll always have one in my life.
Today you are a fine young man. You work hard and you are more responsible then some adults I know. You are kind and gentle and compassionate. Smart too!
You love your momma.
I love you with all my heart.
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