Happiest of birthdays to you Charlie

9 years and 9 months ago, I found out I was pregnant with our 3rd child. I instantly knew that I carried a little boy. How did I know? No idea. I just did. I began buying boy clothes before we'd even had our first ultra sound. I tormented Jeff with questions about which boys' names he liked best. When I told my midwife that I knew it had been a boy before I ever saw the ultrasound, she literally scoffed at me. But I was right. So there. When Charlie was born I was so thrilled to love him so entirely and completely. I had been a little worried about what I would do with a boy since up til then my world had been two little girls. But I knew instantly how to love and cuddle and kiss that little, round, ball of baby chub. He was perfect and I was in love. As Charlie grew and grew and grew (he has always been my little giant) I was amazed at the energy he had. Amazed at how nothing could keep him in. He escaped the house for the first time at 16 months old. I didn't even know he was gone until my neighbor brought him back. We went through different childproof handles, locks, everything we could think of to keep him from wandering off without me. But he always found a way out. At a younger age than my other children, I had to relax on how much I worried about it. Because despite my efforts, he refused to stay inside if he really wanted to be out. That doesn't mean I relaxed on keeping him safe, but I just knew that a certain amount was out of my control. Now, as Charlie is getting older, a lot of things I was told were typical boy behaviors certainly are. But a lot of Charlie's personality has nothing to do with him being a boy, and everything with him just being who he is. He hates being told what to do (don't we all) and he really won't do anything unless he wants to. Hang the consequences. But he is a good boy. He does naughty things. But they're along the lines of eating the last two brownies that I told everyone to save. Or drinking the last of my bottle of pop after I told him he couldn't have it. Or getting on the computer even when I told him no and reading past his bedtime. But he is kind to his friends. He lets his little brother play with him. If Anne Marie gets hurt Charlie is right by her side comforting her and helping her. And I know kids who may not take the brownie when told no, but they look on with apathy at the pain of others. Not Charlie. When I hurt my back a year and a half ago, I had to crawl up the stairs to my bedroom, crying the whole way. And Charlie went with me, crying with me. Concerned about his mom. And for me, that's worth a week of sneaking brownies. So Happy Birthday to my first born son. I love you my darling boy.