My Five Year Old
M turned five this week. It's hard to fathom that five years ago I gave birth to my first child (all 9lbs 5oz of him), and now he is learning to read. I remember the day he was born. We went to our early morning doctor's appointment, and Dr. Krasnoff casually asked us, "So, do you want to have a baby today?" We went to WCA (fulfilling our roles as the controlling, overachieving, firstborn children) to get things organized because we had not planned on having M nine days early. Brian got out his Mini-Maynor list and started making calls. Friends and family showed up at some point in the day and by 5:30 p.m., I was holding my baby boy. Lots and lots of friends came to visit during our two day stay at Missouri Baptist and many posed shots of friends and family looking at sleeping baby M were taken. There were funny moments when Uncle Peter and Daddy tried to change a diaper and pee pee went everywhere. There were tender moments when all three of us cuddled on the uncomfortable hospital bed. There were exciting moments when we would think of baseball/football/soccer games and wrestling tournaments. And there were praiseworthy moments when we held and loved the greatest blessing God had given us.
And now, as I look at my beautiful, strong, tender warrior, I think of the myriad moments we have yet to experience and I rejoice. I especially rejoice in the fact that I grew up in a family that loved sports. M. informed me the other day that his three favorite sports are soccer, football, and baseball. I played two of those (well, softball) and grew up watching the other every Sunday afternoon and Monday evening with my father. At least when he needs me to work with him, I'll know a little more than what I've read in a book.
And now, as I look at my beautiful, strong, tender warrior, I think of the myriad moments we have yet to experience and I rejoice. I especially rejoice in the fact that I grew up in a family that loved sports. M. informed me the other day that his three favorite sports are soccer, football, and baseball. I played two of those (well, softball) and grew up watching the other every Sunday afternoon and Monday evening with my father. At least when he needs me to work with him, I'll know a little more than what I've read in a book.
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