Just Like His Father

Once upon a time, there was a mama of two pretty little girls. Against her better judgement, she agreed to let her husband give her a back rub one night. And got pregnant instantly. Again.

This time around, she bought blue instead of pink. She ate and ate and ate and ate "for the baby", knowing that when her son was born, he'd be forgiving of her gluttony, and he'd be thankful that she'd cared enough to sacrifice her waistline for the sake of fetal development.

It seemed that he liked to get her hopes up, but took his sweet time getting around to making his first appearance. A procrastinator - just like his father. Ugh...The little shit gave her false back labor for the longest 48 hours of her entire life. (FYI 'false' back labor feels a helluvah lot like a contraction combined with someone repeatedly hitting your lower back with a hatchet.)

Poor guy - he was cursed with his mama's awesome genetics. Squinty little eyes, pointy elf ears, banana hands, and huge clown feet. He was more handsome than the mama could've ever imagined.

What a good baby he was! Slept well, ate well, didn't cry very often. The mama caught herself thinking that maybe the old saying about raising boys being easier than raising girls was quite possibly right.

And as time passed, the little fella began to develop his own personality.

He's laid back and silly, always grinning and laughing, slightly ornery, gives lots of hugs and kisses. At 16 months, he already acts just like his father. I don't know how I've been lucky enough to have received a blessing like that one...

Tonight after supper, I bent down to clean up the bits of food my baby boy had dropped onto the floor. As I crouched down on my hands and knees, picking up pieces of shredded cheese, Miles came up behind me, wrapping his sweet little arms around my back in a great big bear hug.

And then he snapped my bra strap and laughed his ass off.

I repeat, just like his father.