My son is our youngest child. He just turned eight over the weekend. I know he milks it being the baby. His sisters were able (or willing) to do a lot more stuff when they were younger as compared to him. Everything is “too hard”, so instead of listening to him complain, we do it for him. His sisters do things for him, too, although my middle daughter usually tells him what a baby he is. He doesn’t seem to care.

He has grown up surrounded by girls. Until recently, our neighborhood seemed to only produce girls. When my daughters bring all their friends over, he is the token brother for many of them. They all hug him and fuss over him when they see him. These girls have added a “y” to the end of his name, keeping with the baby theme.

I was surprised when, yesterday, he asked me for hair gel. “Why?”, I asked. “Because I want to spike my hair”, was his answer. He has a buzz cut that is overdue for a cut so the gel did give it the spikes he wanted. Then he told me that he doesn’t want his hair cut so short next time. What? We all love to rub his head when he gets a new haircut!

Maybe he is not such a baby after all. Maybe it is us that want him to still be the baby….