My baby is five today, but I fear that I will always see him like this:
He will always be my baby. My little boy. My pal.
And he’s growing up like the rest of them.I suppose he’s finally grown out of the mei tai baby carrier that I still keep under his seat in the van.
He’s ready to be a big boy.
But I don’t know if I am.
He’s my baby. And he turns five years old today.
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