Eight years ago today, I was in a hospital feeling way too happy to be as weepy as I was at the Young Prince's arrival.
Seven years ago today, I was almost over the feeling that any minute now someone was going to bang on our door and insist a terrible mistake had been made and they had to reclaim the YP and take him away Right This Second, and my life would be over.
Six years ago today, I was wondering if the little scamp was ever going to open his mouth and start Really Talking.
Five years ago today, I was trying to figure out how to make it all work so that my job didn't suffer but the YP didn't either.
Four years ago today, nothing made me happier than to watch the YP and his dad tell stories and belt out songs on our morning commute to work and day care.
Three years ago today, the YP could name all the presidents, knew all the states and capitals, and I was worried he would be bored to death in kindergarten.
Two years ago today, I was wondering if he would manage to graduate kindergarten.
A year ago today, we were snowed in, celebrating with dinner cooked in the fireplace and a week in a hotel with a pool -- oh, and electricity.
Today, I am just so grateful for the past eight years, and so excited about what the next 80 will bring.
When did you get so skinny? When did I get so maudlin?
And just for the record -- we celebrated your birthday a day early (on Sunday,) with gifts (Boxcar Children books, Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, a Harry Potter book, an Iron Man mask, Dr. Who Tardis control playset, and -- when spring returns -- a giant trampoline for the back yard,) lunch at McDonalds, (where you held the door and ordered for all of us,) and chocolate cake (with a Tardis theme, as requested on short notice.) Today you get cupcakes at school. Next weekend we are taking you and several of your friends to a movie. Lord only knows how that will turn out.
Happy birthday, Young Prince!
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