This day 26 years ago, my second son, the Economist was born. He was 7lbs 15oz and had masses & masses of dark hair. I don’t remember how long he was but he grew from this little thing to 6′ 3″ .
He was the perfect baby; placid, plump and willing to just go along for the ride with big brother:
As a toddler he was quite happy to just sit. I’d plonk him down on the couch while I went off to see what the Locksmith was up to and I’d come back to find him in exactly the same spot.
I could take him anywhere as he’d never grizzle, whine or cry. He would sit in his pram and just gaze around at the world. Analyzing, interpreting, figuring things out. If he got sick of a situation he’d just go to sleep!
Little did I know then that years later his antics would drive this mother deeper into the depths of the wine bottle with a series of “misfortunes” (the yacht misadventure; etc)
Though perhaps the fact that he celebrated his 5th birthday with a broken collarbone should’ve prepared me:
He was a bright middle child with an inquisitive mind who grew more energetic as the years went on – promptly excelling at running, soccer and basically anything athletic he tries. When he finished university & entered the workforce he added travelling the world to his activities and he doesn’t look like slowing down to save his mother from full blown alcoholism! Happy Birthday young man!