We are suspending our regularly scheduled stitching blog because The Big Kid turned 35 today.
Obviously I was only seven when he was born. That is beside the point.
I have adored this kid all of my maternal life, into which we were both delivered at 10:17 on a hot summer morning. He was a sweet and cuddly little kid, prone to flinging his arms around ones neck and squeezing tightly to express his love. He grew into a witty, articulate, and frequently snarky adult who masks the fact that he has a marshmallow interior.
He is a caregiver. He is sympathetic and empathic. He's a good husband and an excellent father.
He's a witty story-teller, so spending time with him is always entertaining. Like all mothers whose children live hours away, I wish our homes were closer to each other, but that makes the time we spend together all the more precious.
I'm glad he was my firstborn and experimental model. I'm thrilled he survived that role and has grown into the man he is today. And I wish him many, many more birthdays and a long and happy life.