Nine years ago, after a three-hour labor spent peacefully floating in a warm bath in a dark room, you came into the world, alarmingly silent for the first few minutes.
Like everything else with you, breathing happened on your timeline, not ours.
But despite the fact that you totally freaked us out, when you were ready to breathe and cry and do what new babies are supposed to do, you did it and everything was fine.
Amazing how even after we've raised two boys, another one can come along who teaches us a whole new approach to parenting.
And what's with the left-handedness? And spending years thinking you were a cat?
Anyway, you're my sweet Little Bear. My personal chef. My easygoing, happy-go-lucky little guy who doesn't sweat the small stuff, who isn't rattled when other people lose their cool, who merely shrugs things off and goes on his merry way.
I try to be more like you every day.