My Boy.

The Captain and I often reflect on how surprised we still are that we have a son. We always imagined that we’d just have three girls. The other night, he said that he had no idea what we were missing before Panda came along.  This boy is pure, pure joy. I love him differently than I love the girls.

He’s my boy, he’s my baby.

He’s more tender than they were.

I love them all with equal magnitude, but in different ways. I love that he likes to suck his thumb and snuggle with blankies, when neither of his sisters really had much interest in either. I delight in his warm, sturdy little form, and the curls around his ears.

Someday soon he won’t fit in my arms like a wee puzzle piece. Someday he won’t need me when he’s sick. This is one of the beautiful and devastating things about parenthood; I’ll remember this version of “us”; I’ll be this same person inside, once he’s an adult, but he will never remember what this felt like. This kid is going to break ALL the hearts. First will be mine, I’m sure.

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