Today you are six .. which probably doesn't mean that much to you to be honest, beyond presents, family, presents, friends, presents, party food, more presents and that one extra candle to blow out on the birthday cake. Oh, and presents.
Tomorrow you will still be the same and feel the same as you did yesterday. But I see you growing so quick, like a flower filmed in stop-motion.
It doesn't seem more than six minutes since you were handed to me in the delivery room. Nor six seconds since I was overwhelmed with that surging rush of love on looking into your eyes for the first time.
That love never flickers or dims. It never will.
But now you call me mum, instead of mummy, and sometimes *sigh* you call me Miss because other people are becoming important in your growing independence and your expanding world. You're a magnet for mud; a tousle-headed dust-bucket of a boy with grazes on your knees all the time. The infernal workings of your internal organs are your entertainment and my despair but still ...I love you.
I love the sloppy tomato-sauced kisses that you save, especially, for me.
I love the head-in-the-dressing-gown-and-go-wibble hugs, the strangulation-by-child-hanging-around-your-neck hugs, the don't-ever-let-me-go hugs and the i-love-you hugs.
I love that you say: "Mummy, you look beautiful" when it's 8 o'clock in the morning and I'm still in my dressing gown.
I even love the 3 o'clock in the morning visitations when all you want is to be tucked back into bed with one more goodnight kiss. (But shall we keep that for VERY special occasions now?)
You were my unexpected gift, a surprise addition to a family I already thought complete, but how could I have known my world would never have been complete without you in it.
You are my pride, my joy, my indulgence and my baby. And you will still be my baby however old you are. (Yeah, I'm sorry about that).
I hope you have a VERY happy birthday, my baby boy.
I love you.
Forever and always,