Lucky

13 years is a lot and a little at the same time.

This post is for me, Hank, so zip it. I know it's embarrassing. It's what moms with access to Apple products and easy blogging templates do. Take your complaints to Steve Jobs' family and Al Gore. I will try to minimize the embarrassment.

You are as easily embarrassed as are all kids your age. I remember that feeling. I feel it 50 times a day. Your dad is smart enough to thwart me when he senses I'm about to do/say something stupid to and/or about you and your sister. I hope you appreciate his skills. I'm trying to learn from him. (He's napping now so he has no control over this post.)

I hug your shoulder. If a kid could give a good hug with a hockey-style shoulder check, it's you. You can't imagine how much I look forward to late summer with the beginning of football practice and your 'practice tackles' in the kitchen when I'm trying to scramble eggs. Those are the best hugs. The best.

A friend told me to not get on the puberty roller coaster with you. I was (and will continue to be) tempted to ride it with you, but I know the best place for me is to wait at the exit, holding your coat, or wallet, or soda. I will buy you an Icee® at SA on the way home. If you throw up, I'll clean it.

Long story short, Hank. You are a good person and a wonderful son. Thirteen years ago today was the happiest day of my life. Dad and I thank God for you. You have a wonderful life ahead of you.