15 years ago today, the Kid showed up in the world, late (by ten days) after having lived a warm and comfy life swimming around in my belly and eating second hand pickles and chocolate chip cookies.
He's the best thing that ever happened to me, this adorable ball of love and unshakable sweetness who I am so lucky to know. The Kid taught me that if it was okay for me to stand up for him to the cruelties of the world, it was just as okay to stand up for myself. He is unshakable in his kindness, which is not something i see in a lot of grown ups (or other kids for that matter) and he is undeniably himself.
He is a proud feminist boy. He is brilliant and thoughtful and geeky and perfect. And he made a deal with me about a year and a half ago that involved him giving up all teenage angst behavior at the age of 15 (Auntie says- yeah right, my kids are in their 30s and I still get that shit. She thinks I might be a bit delusional). But he's not really all that angsty. He's just himself, the Kid, who occasionally rolls his eyes at me but is way more likely to offer a hug.
In the last year he's grown taller than me. He likes to stand as close to me as he can and go "haha, taller than you".
The Kid has his own (sometimes frustrating) timeframe for doing things (see 10 fricken days late! 10! and only came out then because of a c-section).
He is the best person I know, and he's only 15. I cannot wait to see what marvelous things he does and thinks in the world.
But yes, I think this officially means I am OLD. OLD OLD OLD.
I love you punkin munkin, tater tot, sir rotten monkey, stinkerbell Mr. Potatey. Happy birthday and thanks for letting me watch you turn into such an awesome human being.