Nine. I like him, a lot.
His brothers tell him he is a “Momma’s Boy” and with delight he agrees. He knows all he has to do is smile my way and I’m putty in his hands. His brothers could learn a thing or two from him!
He turned nine this week. Nine. I remember when Corbett was turning eight and I was kind of having a bit of a panic attack about it. Now my youngest boy is nine. What is the deal with these kids growing up? I mean, I’m glad they are and all, but they could slow it down a bit!
The third boy. The very middle of our 5. He is like a peaceful river in our family – an unpredictable peaceful river. He is calm and quirky. Passionate, yet passive. Strong, but gentle. He says the oddest things, notices the strangest stuff and never lets a day go by without giving me the greatest hug. He fills my heart and soul with so much joy.
