The "Chick" is 15! How Time Has Flown!

Once upon a time, we visited a herd of reindeer.

The babies were so cute and...

... the velvet antlers so soft and...

the experience so fun AND I was 18 weeks pregnant.

Five months, plus 15 years later and lots of awesome living... we have my "chick"! How can it have been that long?!?!

Why does he like to be called my chick? It all comes back to the tale of "The Little Red Hen." In that classic, none of the barn animals will help the little red hen to gather the wheat, grind the grain, mix the dough, or bake the bread. But, they all are interested in helping her eat the bread. She declines their help in the eating because they didn't help in the making and shares the bread only with her chicks. Thus, we have my child's refrain that he is my chick and needn't help because he's my sweet, little chick (and he got me that plush chick). Hmmm, well, even though he's several inches taller than me (and usually does help), today he's allowed to be my chick and revel in pampering. Here's to my precious boy who has grown into a funny, creative, brilliant person with quite the sense of humor :)