While it may make me feel a little old, I still can't help but smile that my dear, kind, silly, Lego-loving boy has crossed the double-digit threshold. It can only go up, literally, from here. I'm afraid that by his next birthday he may be taller than me.



He wanted to celebrate in the way that's become comfortable for him: home-cooked meal (tomato soup and grilled cheese) and Momofuku Milk Bar's Birthday Cake with his family. A few days later there was an excursion to all-you-can-eat pizza and dessert, ride and arcade extravaganza with his friends. 



I'm not taking this time in my son's life for granted. I know that at some point, some point sooner rather than later, he will turn his attention away from the home he loves so much, from the sanctity of the room he shares with his brother where they can spend hours constructing and deconstructing Legos. I know soon he'll prefer to be out in the world, without us, creating his own identity, probably immersing himself in social media, asking to come home late to which I'll agree but will wait awake with baited breath until his return.

But I really do try not to think of that now. Right now, I am enjoying the constant mess of his room, the way his clothes are often jammed unfolded in his drawers, the stacks of comic books, the uniquely boy-ish smell his room gets when the door's been closed too long, how hungry he is all the time, how long and spindly his legs are, how he still likes to come up from behind me and surprise me with a hug. 

Here's to the first incredible decade, and onto the next, my dear heart.