I love my son.
If you told me a year ago that I would be writing those words, I would probably not wait to finish my drink before I told you to go to hell.
I thought I knew. I thought I knew it all.
Each day I learn how much I didn't know. Each day I wake up eager to hold this little guy. Each day brings something unepected: the discovery of toes, the flash of a grin.
Yes, indeed. I love my son.