Tomorrow Henry turns three. I'm nervous about making the day special and memorable for him; not because I want him to be spoiled and entitled, but because this little boy is the love of my life.
I thought watching him grow up would slowly break my heart, watching him age one day at a time until he leaves home a young man, ready for his adventures in adulthood. But I was wrong. The indignities I occasionally suffer when I'm no longer needed by him are quickly soothed by the enormous pride I feel watching my baby boy's sense of accomplishment.
Yes, it's uncharted territory watching him take precarious steps toward the edge of the nest, but it's worth it. It's so worth it.
It's worth it even when it's nearly 10pm, a solid three hours past his bedtime and he stubbornly refuses to give into sleep.
Meanwhile my brain is darting back and forth between the brilliant ideas I had for decorating the house and displaying his presents...which makes me realize giving up my pride and the idea of having a perfectly beautiful birthday photo op with Henry is trivial compared to being this precious boy's mom!
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