My youngest child is 26 years old today. I guess he’s not a baby any more.
He is the father of two beautiful girls, and he and his wife are awaiting the birth of a third daughter this April. He works very hard to support his family, with long hours and a very physical job. He loves his family and his work very much.
I guess that means that he is a success.
We are very proud of him.
He is the youngest of three. Our oldest boy, after having a sister, wanted us to name him after himself. A junior of his name. He couldn’t understand why we didn’t do that.
Although both of our sons shared many talents-they are both gifted actors-each of them have very distinct personalities. And they are both very different from our daughter, the middle child. It always amazes me that children with the same genetic background can be so different.
He is the spice of our family. Where his older brother is very restrained, and our daughter is a bit introverted, our third son is social and easy-going. People just naturally like him. We have often told him that he is an old soul. He loves Frank Sinatra, old movies and old-time dancing. He reads the New York Times and watches the Daily Show online, but they do not have television. He prefers to go into a bank and make a deposit rather than having an automatic deposit. He likes people, and they like him.
He was born during one of the coldest cold snaps of January in Minnesota. When we took him home from the hospital, it was a -80 F windchill. My husband had to leave the car running outside the hospital while he came in to get me and our son to come home. My husband was not sure the car would start again if he turned it off. I remember my daughter going through the hospital hallways in her purple snowsuit, boots, hat, mittens and scarf.
My son had a very close call with death when he was about 18 months old. He had meningitis. Our normal family doctor was out, and his partner thought I was overreacting. He sent us home. The next day I took him into the emergency room, after he had been barely breathing through the night. My sister came along with me, sitting in the back seat to help out. Her story was that she was scared that he would stop breathing as we drove to the hospital. She was trying to figure out what to do if that happened. He was hospitalized in the children’s intensive care unit for about 10 days. I was a wreck. But he has had no after effects. We feel so lucky to have him in the family.
So, today I wish our baby a very happy birthday!