In the blink of an eye, he went from this:
to this:
Okay, so there were a few years in between.
They looked a lot like this:
(Yes, there are plenty of years between the diaper pic and the cap pic,
but you know how it is with teenage boys and cameras.)
When I had that baby you see in the first pic,
I was pretty much a baby myself.
Drew was my firstborn,
my pride and joy,
my own living, breathing
baby doll.
For 2 1/2 years (until his sister came along)
he had me all to himself
and we went everywhere together.
He was always by my side,
my very best little friend,
my reason to get out of bed each morning.
No child was ever more loved.
Today he turns 28 years old.
TWENTY-EIGHT?
How on earth can it be?
It seems that only a moment ago I was
pushing him in his stroller...
putting him on the school bus...
reading every Hiram's Red Shirt and Tootle to him
(over and over and over);
being so proud to call him my son.
That last part?
Well, it still holds true
and it always will.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DREWPY!
(Yeah, he's gonna kill me for that.... ; ) )
