This week is my son’s birthday.
From the very beginning, I knew he was going to be a handful. He refused to vacate his comfy home for his due date, deciding instead to roll around in my belly like the Tasmanian Devil partying in a hot tub.
Today, my son is the sweetest, kindest, most adorable-est boy in the universe. He’s still got a bit of the Taz in him, but that’s okay. He’s the light of my life.
So it only seems fitting that I show the world my sweet Baby Boo in all his glory (and in the process, call him by as many nauseatingly cutesy nicknames as I possibly can.)
Of course, I would never ever think of posting some of his extra-adorable/horribly embarrassing photos.
Because that would just be plain wrong.
But I’m a mom and if exposing my son’s unbearable cuteness is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.
And it definitely would be wrong of me to post a video of him at the age of five doing a lovely spaztastic dance number.
Dear CJ — my Chub-Bub, my BaBoo, my Lil’ Buddy — I love you more than the moon and stars (even more than trucks and cars).
Happy 11th Birthday! I’m so happy to be your mom!