Saturday, September 13, 2003
Today is T's birthday. Eight years old. Eight years ago... right now... we were still inducing, still waiting for things to progress further before - aaah - epidural. Always wished they had a home kit for that, or a version for the dad. By lunch time, she was resting, sleeping a little. And by 4pm or so, we were in labor ("we" in the loosest sense of the word). At 6pm, the doctor finally conceded that our firstborn wasn't going to come that way. Emergency C-section - and at 6:30, our little klingon was born. But he's a perfectly good little human now, with just the tiniest little scalpel scar on his cheek from the experience.
Just trying to be funny. He's eight now, and for me, that's an age where I begin even now to remember more about friends back then, teahers back then, toys and TV shows back then. So I'm excited, and challenged, that we're entering a period of like that he'll actually hold onto for the rest of his life. We're very proud of our son (both of our children actually, but our princess will get her own write-up in a month or so). We are better parents for the interaction with our kids. We're better people for these little friends in our lives.