My baby turns 21

I guess he is not my baby anymore….

Bert the Bob celeberated his 21st birthday yesterday and it was quite a weepie day for me. While making his powerpoint of copius pictures (as all mothers do for their children’s 21st birthdays) I went through a lifetime of memories. Such happy ones. All the agonies and blissfull moments of raising 3 boys came flooding back.

As his siblings pointed out in their speeches, Bert is special. He cares about others, seldom moans and gives a mean neck rub when you are stressed. In general I can summarise him as a responsible young man with wisdom way beyond his years. I am proud to be his mother.

His 21st party was again a reflection of what he is about. Instead of the wild party that most 21 year olds demands, he insisted on a formal dignified italian affair with a few of his friends and family and the normal italian fare of endless sumptious courses. He forced us to dig into our cubboards for our finest wares and we had to suck in our tummies while stuffing our faces with enthusiasm.

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