There are awkward moments of raising a son.
Like sitting at the kinyozis' (barbers') waiting for your sons hair to be cut and you're the only woman there.
Or taking him to the ladies because he's not old enough to go to the gents on his own.
But there are glorious moments like having his first tooth removed with no squirming and crying: rather a sense of pride like a hero emerges from a battle.
Food eaten with relish, sleep with all the abandon one can muster and adventures you could never imagine existed.
My fourty something self and almost 5 year old feisty, gregarious, boisterous son is quite a combination and a sight to behold. Me mumbling prayers for strength, him laughing with mirth as he plays with dogs twice his size.
I am thankful, trusting, optimistic.
#parentingchronicles
Like sitting at the kinyozis' (barbers') waiting for your sons hair to be cut and you're the only woman there.
Or taking him to the ladies because he's not old enough to go to the gents on his own.
But there are glorious moments like having his first tooth removed with no squirming and crying: rather a sense of pride like a hero emerges from a battle.
Food eaten with relish, sleep with all the abandon one can muster and adventures you could never imagine existed.
My fourty something self and almost 5 year old feisty, gregarious, boisterous son is quite a combination and a sight to behold. Me mumbling prayers for strength, him laughing with mirth as he plays with dogs twice his size.
I am thankful, trusting, optimistic.
#parentingchronicles
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