My Bob turned 15 yesterday. I know every mom the world over says the same thing on their kids birthdays, but WOW how the time has flown.
Just yesterday, seriously! he was this big...
He was such an easy, good baby. He ate, he smiled, he slept...for months.
He did a lot of this. He didn't walk till he was 15 months old, but he spoke in sentences a 12 months.
He'd sit there on his little blanket with his little cars and toys around him and look up at me and say, "Mama, ka-ker pees" and wait happily till someone brought him a cracker. Even though he could crawl by 10 months, he rarely did. He was happy to sit and watch and smile and eat crackers.
Not so much anymore. Bob does not sit and wait for anyone to do anything for him anymore. Bob is a go-getter. Want something done? Ask Bob. He can do it and if he can't he'll figure it out.
He just seems to know stuff. It's wired, like it's some male gene that they have that we girls don't. They know stuff involving electronics and metal and grease and engines and torque that would take me years to learn, and he just knows it.
My Bob is also a sweet and generous young man. He looks out for the little guy, the guy at the back of the crowd that no one is talking too. My Bob notices him and goes to talk to him and make him feel comfortable.
My Bob is now also armed.
Sir D feels it is important that before his sons leave his house they should have a good shotgun and a warm sleeping bag because apparently we're raising our boys in 1830.
This is the shotgun that Bob's grandpa went hunting with, with his dad when he was a little boy. It has a long history of father-son hunting. One day I'm sure my Bob will take his boys hunting too and pass down this gun to his boys.
It is the circle of life in Texas.
Happy birthday Bob, may your aim always be true.