My sweet baby is 13 today … I get choked up just thinking about it. I don’t know why this one hit me harder than the others, but it has. Let me tell you a bit about my boy. Even though he is the oldest, I call him my baby. He always will be. (My baby is my baby-baby. Also, my Angel-baby. She’s fine with that.) He has the sweetest smile in the world. I can call his name and he looks at me and I automatically get that smile. He has the cutest cheeks. And the smallest nose. You know that thing you do to little kids where you run your hand down their face and then when you go back it gets stuck on their nose and cracks them up? You cannot get stuck on his nose. It is soooo cute. He has a wink that he saves just for me. (The day I have to share it will not be pretty!) He has the biggest heart. Whenever he sees someone he loves, his whole face lights up with it. When he was 4 years old, he told me his whole heart was filled up with my love. And he still does. He knows it gets me. Finally, for a kid who just turned into the evil teenager, he’s a pretty good kid. He is nice to others, sympathetic, polite, respectful. And a darn good football center. He isn’t perfect. His room is a mess, and he doesn’t love school. Fights with his sister. But he’s mine. I love you, baby. And I always will.