"April qwenty-ninph, that is my birfday" he said. I can still hear that confident two year old voice. He had the sweetest fat cheeks that I loved to kiss and nibble. Every year on his birthday, his Grampa and I look at each other and say "April qwenty-ninph" together. He doesn't know this and probably would prefer not knowing until he has a child of his own. He is among that group of population known as teens. Sixteen years old today. Old enough to get a driver's licence. That is scary, to think of my sweet boy behind the wheel.
I had the chance to watch him play baseball while I was in Minnesota. He looked so handsome and grown-up. He was the catcher. I was huddled in a chair with a blanket on me, watching him play ............ as the gale force winds threatened to blow me away as my teeth chattered. Then he got hurt. His hand, not bad, just a painful contusion. I walked over to the dugout, hoping that movement might even generate some heat. He surprised me by giving me a hug! I haven't had a hug in public since kindergarten! Then the sleet started coming down and we hurried to the car. But, I got a hug in public! And that was before I gave him his birthday present!
Happy Birthday to my grandson, Gage!