Our Tater Tot is six years old today. With him, we have definitely experienced the “the days are long, but the years are short” phenomenon. I feel like I blinked and he went from 0 to 6.
Tate crawled into bed with us. I wished him a Happy Birthday.
Birthdays are stinky. Gross. No, no birthday.
Oh, Tate….how old are you?
I six today.
That’s my Tater. I jumped in the shower and let myself get lost in thought. Six years ago I became a mom–again. To a boy for whom we had so many hopes and dreams. I began to think of Tate.
Tate. My beautiful boy. That smile. Those full lips. Those magnificently long, dark eyelashes. His cheeks. That glimmer of mischief in his golden brown eyes. His ruddy, protruding ears. His strong hands. His chubby feet.
I thought about his zest for life. His curiosity. His seriousness. His silliness. His laughter…the infectious laughter. His playfulness.
I considered his empathy. His love for his brothers. His admiration for his daddy. His love for me. His kisses.
I contemplated his love of water. Of motion. Of fans. His requests for hugs…and the sweetness of his fleeting embrace. His Autism. His sensory disorder.
Through the sadness, the tears, the struggles, and woes, the excitement, the victories, and everything in-between, Tate has given me so much more than I could ever give him in return…so I can only keep trying. I love you, my sweet, sweet boy. Happy Birthday.