. . . for the mother of three boys.
When my youngest son was born, a friend gave me a piece of artwork with that sentiment inscribed upon it. Another friend hummed the theme song to My Three Sons as she gave me a baby gift. Still another told me to bid my clean house good-bye forever.
As of today, I'm not just the mother of three boys. I'm the mother of three teenage boys. On this day, March 29, thirteen years ago, I gave birth to my third baby boy.
Having been at this boy-mothering business for a long time now, I've learned a thing or two. I've learned, for example, how sweet it is for your baby boy to reach his arms up for a hug.
And how heart-melting it is for your little guy to pick you flowers. And how much fun it is to listen to a little fellow play with cars and trucks and other things that go vroom-vroom. And how astounding it is to watch a boy build a massive Lego creation. And how precious it is to hear your young man read Scripture at church. And how heart-swellingly proud you feel when your son opens a door for a lady or helps a neighbor carry something heavy or explains a math problem to a friend.
And how sweet it is for your baby boy to reach his arms down for a hug. Because, no matter how much he towers over you, he is still your baby.
I think I would change that piece of art if I could. I think maybe it should say, "There's a special bit of heaven on earth for the mother of three boys."