belated

I've been putting off writing about Michael's fourth birthday because I don't know what to say.

should I be funny? should I be serious? should I go ahead and make everyone gag with the force of my maternal love?

what should I say?

I still don't know.

but Michael, I love you.

and someday you won't love me nearly as much as you do now. (probably someday soon.)

You will find me irritating and embarrassing.

deeply disappointing.

and that's okay. (although it might break my heart a little bit. for awhile.)



but I will always love you, just the same, just as much as I did four years ago when they put you on my chest, this crying, bloody, tiny little bundle.

happy (very late) birthday.