My son turns ten today. These old images of him seem unreal to me now (he's the fellow on the left who bears a resemblance to Uncle Fester in a birthday hat). The days of babyhood are now a decade behind me.
But my youngest boy is growing into a great person. He puts up with his brother's teasing--even sometimes philosophically sees it as his birthright (although there are other times when they battle like gladiators on the living room floor). He amuses us all with his wry observations and funny antics. He can whistle better than anyone I know. He is fiercely loyal to his family, and prefers our company to anyone else's. That's a very nice thing about age ten.
When the proofs of my book arrived in the mail, he was the happiest of all. He's a tireless promoter of my work. He is a generous soul who thinks of others. Realistically, though, he also thinks of himself. His request for his birthday (part of which I had to spend at work) was that I cash some of his birthday checks and then take him to Super Target for a shopping extravaganza. :)
Life cannot be lived backwards, and though I miss the fat cheeks and drooly smiles of babyhood, I am much more interested in seeing this little man evolve into the adult he will become.