What happened to my baby, the super cranky li'l dude?
The boy who waited till after bath to say that he had poo'd?
What happened to my tiny Red, whose pant legs had to be rolled?
The grouchy kid who rarely, if ever, did as he'd been told?
Where has he gone, my curmudgeon child, the one with the cheeky grin?
I only see him sometimes now, in the set of a firm, dimpled chin.
When once he shied from kisses, now Luke doles them out with glee.
He often hugs me softly these days, when once he'd punch my knee.
Diapers and wipes are things of the past: he's proud of his toileting skills.
And he carries his plate to the table, with only occasional spills.
Not long ago, the phone was a toy, that he'd chew on with great delight.
These days, he's apt to pick it up when it rings and sometimes he holds it upright.
Books, once the things he'd rip and tear into, with maniacal glee and aplomb
are now his most treasured possessions: "Please can you read to me, Mum?"
Where has he gone, the small lad who would tumble and wail his way to my lap?
He's too busy for bandaids and picks himself up now, often muttering, "Crap!"
Where has the time gone, these halcyon days, when the morning would stretch on for hours?
Now he is five and he's fierce and he's tough, possessed with fine boy Super Powers.
From birth until now, Luke has worshipped his brother, the way that I'd hoped he might do:
best friends ('til they're not), they share secrets, my love,
fine red hair and a bedroom of blue.
That cross newborn boy who filled spots in my heart that I hadn't known were missing,
will, today, be five and I'm lost in these years, smiling through tears, reminiscing.
Sweet darling Luke, five years ago, you came into the world from my tummy.
Thank you for being your incredible self and for choosing me to be your mummy.
Happy Birthday, Took-Wookers.
I love you.