No, it’s not his birthday. It’s really closer to his half birthday. We’re closing in on nine. Which means I’ve lost track of time. Which means he’s not a little anymore. Which means he’s sullen and mercurial and often tempestuous. The real occasion for this post is that I got a picture of him- a real true picture of who he is in this moment of time. Dark and light. Freckles and brilliant blue eyes. Golden, messy, wavy hair. I love him so much it hurts. If I stare for more than a bit at these I tear up. There’s a man unfolding behind those eyes. Oh, the privilege and responsibility of being his mama.

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