I feel so schmaltzy about this and thought about posting a poem about Mother/Son relationships. My son is my "deedaboo," a nickname that originated from his handicapped brothers attempt to mimic me cooing "little boy" to Evan the infant.
When he was little we just adored him and all of his antics. Brynn would say that we should keep him. Now- he is at the age where we have to let him go... Happy 18th Birthday- deedaboo.
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