No, I’m not referring to Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler.
Sunday was somebody’s birthday! Happy birthday, my big boy!
I can’t believe Cole is three years old. It seems like he was just born yesterday. I still remember everything about his birth. I remember the pain, having to get the epidural three times before it finally worked, having to go on oxygen because both our levels were dropping. I remember how scared I was to head into surgery for my C-section, not just scared for myself, but scared for my baby. I remember puking on the table while I was being stitched up. I remember seeing my baby for the first time as they held him up for me to see. I remember the look on my husband’s face as he saw his firstborn son for the first time.
In that moment, life was perfect.
And now he is like this little… person. He has opinions and preferences and likes and dislikes. We can carry on a conversation with him. He expresses himself like an adult. It’s very strange to converse with this little just-over-three-feet tall human. He loves his brother fiercely. Almost too fiercely; I have to rescue Cannon from Cole’s death grip hugs fairly often. He is friendly to everyone he meets, but he takes to some people more quickly than others.
And he’s silly. He is the funniest little guy I have ever met. He loves to shake his booty to music and sings along to his favorite songs. He loves to play peekaboo with his brother, and he loves to be tickled. He loves to try to make us laugh, and he always succeeds. He has the greatest facial expressions, too.
So to my wonderful little Cole, happy birthday. I am so thankful that you are my baby. We love you more than any words can ever express.