I'm really not sure how this fella, my littlest brudder, is a teenager. I remember learning of his conception, holding him with he was just an itty + bitty baby, going to his t-ball games, making him take selfies with me before selfies were cool, and that's just the start. Thirteen years have gone by in a flash, and even though he doesn't like to hug + kiss me like he used to, I know he still loves me. Nope, not even his professional eye-rolling skills can convince me otherwise. And, besides, I have no problem holding him down and laying a big, fat one right on his cheek right after I tickle him into delirium.
Wilber (now known as Wuncle) is the same age that I was when he was born, and now he gets to love on a little baby boy just like I once did him. I can't wait for Braxton to grow up and make memories with him just like I did + still am. I don't think Wuncle will be as bossy as me, so they may find themselves getting into mischief more often than we did--but don't worry, mommies have eyes everywhere. In our family, we simply call it "the look," and I've been practicing for years.
Happy birthday, Wuncle!
Even though we all had our doubts (three words: middle school + hormones), we're happy that you made it to thirteen. Hip hip hooray!
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