Images of the past
Today my little boy turns 17. My son is no longer so little. In fact he towers over me, bending down to give me a hug.
It seems like yesterday that I held his hand as he took his first steps. Now he no longer needs my help as he grows into manhood.
When he was little I let his hair grow into long ringlets. I still have a ringlet from his first haircut. Now his hair touches his shoulders in blonde waves.
I use to play games to get him to eat different foods. Now he tries to get me to eat sushi and seaweed.
I use to read books like Harry Potter to him every night before bed. Now his idea of a good read is Introduction to Legal Theory.
He use to listen to things I said. Now I try to keep up with whatever is his latest interest.
I use to plan and take him on play dates. Now he makes his own calls and grabs a ride with one of his friends to activities.
Underneath all that male testosterone he is still my baby. He starts his senior year in the fall. College is looming over the horizon. So many changes ahead.
For today I will hold onto the images of the past while he eagerly looks ahead. Happy Birthday, Son. Hope each one is better than the last.