I Am Only Buying One Box Of Candles

I’m staring at my last-minute shopping list for my son’s birthday party:

hamburger buns

And it hit me. He has outgrown Chuck E. Cheese.

It blows my mind that his years exceed a box of birthday candles; that he doesn’t want to dress to match his Cozy Coupe (and that it’s not still his favoritest birthday present EVER); that he requested margaritas at his birthday party instead of Koolaide, and that he doesn’t even care if we have cake.

Flying times. And then the party is over…

He didn’t dress in green and white to match his birthday present, but he ate the cupcakes while he drank a margarita. And he brought his friends. And he stayed late to visit with me, even though his other friends were calling him, and anxiously waiting for the birthday boy. He stayed with me, and visited, for awhile.

Twenty-six years ago, he picked me to be his mom. And because I missed being a teenage mom by mere months, that meant sometimes we grew up together. But he still picked me. I got to be his mom. And I’m so proud of the fine man he has become.

Happy birthday Peanut. I love you with all of my heart.


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