Feelings.

My child.

-Since about the age of 3 months old when he exploded from wearing preemie clothes (born at 29 weeks) and blossomed into a robust baby wearing well above his “age” clothing and completely skipping quite a few sizes in diapers he has been called many names by strangers. These include but are not limited to:

• robust
• big boy
• line backer
• football player
• massive
• large
• eater
• solid
• monster
• huge
• handful
• bruiser

Yes, he is all that and I love it. He is a big boy. I love it. I love that when he walks he still waddles. I love that his inner thighs still have rolls. I love that he has a budunkadunk. I love that his belly is mushy. I love that he has baby man boobs. I love his big cheeks. I love love love him and I do not fault people for calling him all those names.

But these people see his exterior. I am the lucky one to know that all those adjectives are just some of the words that describe him.

He is sweet, kind, cuddly, thoughtful, expressive and believe me this list could go on.

But the one thing about this big little man that no other person knows about him is that he will run into walls, fall from steps and slam into almost everything (me thinks this is due to the waddling) and yet he never sheds a tear, he just rubs and says to himself “u, ok?”Yet when he is spoken to firmly he will meltdown and his little heart will just shred to pieces bringing his eyes to a puddle of tears and melting mine in the process.

For your viewing pleasure.

At this point I say with a very stern voice, “Manny, what are you doing? NO, you shouldn’t do that”

My little softie.