Or the one on the left in this picture?
Yes, that one.
He's 19 years old today.
Nineteen years ago, he was a brand-new baby. And I was a brand-new mama.
Not that I mind that he has only one more year to be a teenager. Or two more years to be a minor. No, I don't mind at all. Not a bit. I don't miss those days of having a sweet little baby with curly red hair. I don't long for the days when he was a baby in my arms. I don't miss rocking him to sleep. I don't dream of the days when I was teaching him to walk and talk. Or read and write. Or ride a bike. Or drive a car. Oh, no. Not me.
Of course not.