Mario

Do you know what today is, other than Tuesday, August 25th? It is your due date, which doesn't mean much because you were actually evicted by order of Pitocin eight days later, but it was the day you were due to come out of my tummy and that discussion ALWAYS opens up the wrong can of worms. You know, the can that contains the conversation that inevitably ends with you asking me what the doctors do with babies after they are born in the toilet?

Oh, look at the butterflies over there, aren't they pretty?

I am just not prepared for this type of conversation. Yet. (I suspect I will never feel prepared).

I look at you and your long legs and nimbly arms and it is just so amazing to see you grow. It's hard to believe that six short years ago, I was wondering what kind of person you would be, because now I know and it seems that I have always known you. It's hard to believe that I actually lived before you were born.

And here you are, writing your LONG name in almost cursive and doing a fine job of it and suddenly you don't need my help like you used to. You've got it covered, kiddo, and I am so very proud of you.