The day has come…

Eight years ago, I had my first baby, and he was a boy. We were living just outside of San Francisco in a lovely town called San Mateo, I was working for a pediatrician full time, and we named him Mason.

This boy LOVES the water so much, that he’s going to be on a swim league this summer. He spends a full week by himself each summer in Florida at his grandparents home at the beach. He truly fits the mold of first born. He’s kind, he’s loveable, he’s smart.

He loves the little guy and fights with his sister {he love’s you too Lola, he just doesn’t show it very well}. He’s adjusted with our move here, he’s made good friends, he is a good friend.

Mason loves to surprise. What parent wouldn’t love waking up Valentines morning to a little heart hanging from the kitchen ceiling?

This is Mason, and my baby is Eight years old today.


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