He was supposed to have Down's Syndrome. At least according to the dink doctor who called us one Saturday afternoon demanding we get in ASAP to have an amniocentesis. When I informed this idiot that whether he did or didn't have it he was our son and we were having him I got a prolonged silence as a response.
Which makes it the only time since he's been conceived that Rakes and silent were used in the same sentence.
If you've read this blog you are fully aware that while Rakes has a lot of things, Down's isn't one of them.
During delivery the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck; didn't even slow him down. For the past 6 years he's provided more joy and more chaos and more noise than anything that small should ever be able to produce.
He's my first born son who lives his life at 95 mph and 1000 decibels every minute and every day and even though he'll kill me someday for posting a picture of him in a wife beater with a taco sauce stain on it during his birthday, I told him 100 times to go change and he ignored me every time.
Which is classic Rakes in a nutshell. One thing I'll never have to worry about is Rakes following the crowd. He's a proud member of the "Dance to the beat of my own drum" crowd and it's reason 5, 698 that I love the little guy.
Happy 6th Birthday tomorrow, Rakes.
I love you little man.
On friendship and (more) healing.
9 hours ago