My first child was born. My Son. A gorgeous, healthy 8lb 11 oz baby boy. He was perfect, started sleeping through the night after the first month, or occassionally waking just once or twice when he'd hit a growth spurt, and was so very content all the time, and smiled and cooed at everyone and anyone. He was a doll, and I doted on him like any adoring first-time mother. He was my little-man, and I fell happily in love with motherhood.
By six months old, he weighed a whopping 25lbs, but was solid as could be, with just the right amount of squeezable baby chub. At just 6 months old, he was already a total flirt ... paying special attention to older girls he thought were cute, like the girl at kiddiekandids, or the checkout girl at albertsons ... and the girls flirted right back with him, making him giggle with delight.
He's was quite the mama's boy, which I must admit, I highly encouraged. He'd bring me dandilions, shower me with hugs and kisses, and would curl up with me for naptime, falling asleep contently nestled next to me. It was aroung two years old that he fell in love with the SuperBowl, and watching football when it was on, lol.
By 3 years old, he had a baby sister, and a mommy that was 6 months pregnant with another sister. He was happy-go-lucky, and adoring towards his little sister, sharing with her, gently steering her away from "danger", and holding her hand constantly. I think by the time his youngest sister came, he was no longer "mama's boy." He had become "sisters' boy". He still adored me of course, and always tried to please me, and take care of me. If I was having a rough day, SuperBoy would bring me a castle he built for me out of duplo legos, or snuggle up next to me, and say "I wuv ya mommy". His tender little heart has always touched me so deeply.
His fourth year was a little rocky for him, but he still stayed sweet as could be. He was very diligent in taking care of his sisters, playing with Princess, and rocking AngelBaby in her swing. He would run and get me the second he thought he heard the baby fuss. When you asked who his best friend was, he'd say "my best fwend is Pwincess". When they'd fight, he'd tell her sorry, then turn to me, and say "sometimes fighting is what best fwends do".
Now my little man is 5 years old. He starts Kindergarten in two weeks. He knows his letters, their sounds, and is working on counting to 100. He loves his new bike, and is very safety-concience, and always talks about staying on the safe side. He's bubbly, loves to play, but always wants to help too. He's just found the wonderful world of normal Legos and transformers ... and while he's not above playing "dora" with his sisters, he is 100% B.O.Y.
I love you little SuperBoy. You're turning into a little "SuperMan", and I already tear up when I think of you leaving on a mission in ... 14 years, lol. Your eyes are so wise, and your tenderheart keeps you so perceptive to others needs and feelings. You have an incredable spirit, and a difinitive need to do what's right. Last night, we took you to dinner, and the server teased you "you're halfway to ten!" Daddy and I looked at you and instantaniously got tears in our eyes. Don't grow up too fast little SuperMan ... like I told you right then: "How about you stay 5, and stop growing up so fast!" You thought that was funny, and turned back to your french fries.
Little SuperMan, I love you. You are my little sweetheart, and love seeing who you are turning into ... and I love it! You are one amazing lil' man.