You are my first born son. The one I wanted because I wanted to start a family.
At first I fumbled around, I'm still fumbling around because you are always growing and need to be taught how to be an independent, self sustaining, human being one day without me.
At six months old you were already too smart for your own good. You knew what you wanted and you got it. You went after it.
You started walking just as you were turning a year old. That year went by so fast, I couldn't catch my breathe. We celebrated you on your birthday and had so much fun.
Fast forward to now, already eleven years old, I worry about stuff that I shouldn't be worrying about until you're much older. I still worry about because you are my child! I worry about whether you will choose to do the right thing versus the wrong thing. I worry that one day you'll choose your dad over me.