Baby Mine, Don't You Cry...

My first baby was born when I was nine. Don’t let the fact that he was my youngest brother and I only became involved post-delivery fool you into believing that he did not belong, wholly and completely, to me. From the moment I first held him, I never let go.
I snuck him into bed with me every night until he was two and got moved to the boys’ room. And then I snuck in there. I carried him on my hip so much that I think I may be a bit off kilter to this day. Babysitters were unwise trying to take him, friends were silly assuming I wouldn’t wag him everywhere, and adults were misguided in thinking my parents had “saddled” me with the “the baby.” They just knew you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, spit into the wind, tear the mask off ole Lone Ranger, or…take Matthew away from Jodi. Uncle Mafoo (as my kids have called him) is now a successful attorney living in the big city--but he started as my baby and, even now, it’s hard to let go of those ties. One of the first books I ordered for this project was his first read-it-myself book--The Carrot Seed by Ruth Krauss. It is the simple story of a boy who dreams big and, in the face of long odds and vocal detractors, nurtures his vision into reality. When I think of the boy who read it and the man he has become, I smile.