One of my co-workers has a sister who was in labor this morning. She came to the office announcing the imminent baby, periodically checking her phone for news. I smiled. Eight years ago today, I was at the hospital laboring myself.
Before I left for work this morning, I went into my birthday boy's room to give him a hug. He was working on getting dressed for school. I sat on his floor watching this entirely complete person pick out jeans and put on socks and talk to me about the things he's going to invent when he grows up. It's mind-boggling sometimes, this whole circle-of-life bit.
"I'm sure glad I had you," I told him.
He paused with one sock on. "Why?"
"You're very sweet and very thoughtful and a hug from you makes my day."
He thought about this. "I have very good ideas, too."
I smiled at him. "Yes, you do."
We're taking Mr. Eight-Years-Old out to sushi tonight. (His choice; a very good idea.)
And, in case you were wondering, my co-worker's nephew was born this afternoon with mom and baby doing just fine.
And so it goes.