Firsts

I missed my son’s first hours. His first cries. His first glimpses at the world. He held my husband’s finger, he had his first bath, he dirtied his first diaper . . . and I missed it.
        I try very hard not to take his firsts for granted. And there have been a whole lot of firsts to enjoy.
        Since those first difficult days, Charlie slept his first night in his cradle. He outgrew his first baby clothes. He sat at his first bar. His pigged out at his first barbeque. He rolled over from front to back. He touched his hands together. He flew in his first airplane. He stayed in his first hotel. He kissed his friends and family hello for the very first time.
        And somewhere in between, he smiled.
        And he smiled.
        And he smiled.
        So here’s to firsts. And seconds. And thirds.