And now he is in his second year of teenager-dom.
This smart, funny, sensitive little boy – is no longer so little. He is grandma’s boy and I tell him that every time I see him. Even though, now, when he runs through the airport to greet me, he almost knocks me over; he will forever be grandma’s boy.
I was at the Virginia house when he came home from the hospital. A preemie at 3 pounds and 5 ounces, you would never know it today. At fourteen, he stands over his dad and takes much satisfaction in resting his forearm on his father’s shoulder. He has a tender heart and a sensitive soul. He also has a sly sense of humor and enjoys making me laugh when we should be serious; lovingly taunts his younger sister by flipping her hair or poking her side when dad isn’t looking.
When he was a toddler in Tucson, he was my Target buddy at least once a week. And he kept me in check, removing items from the cart when he was of the opinion that “we don’t need this, Grandma”. Later on in his tween years, he would accompany me to the Wegman’s, and it was my turn to keep him in check.
And now he is heading toward the middle of his teens. Still Grandma’s boy. Still his sister’s biggest fan and her steadfast gentle tormentor. Still a loving, sensitive, smart, talented and handsome
boy er, young man.
But in my eyes, he is still the toddler stacking soup cans in my pantry or running down the sidewalk to my open arms and appearing out of the bedroom where I thought I had cleverly hidden his birthday gift, on the seat of his brand new red tricycle. So much for that surprise.
I love this child. This toddler turned teen. This handsome young man.
This forever grandma’s boy.
Happy Birthday, Mateo. Grandma loves you.