My youngest child was born when I was 37 years old. While it wasn’t the optimum age to bear a child, I wouldn’t take him back for all the money in the world. He has a huge temper, is the most stubborn child that I have ever met, yet he colors my world in a brilliance that makes me smile every day. Each and every one of my children, while sharing my DNA, is very different. In each child, I can see bits and pieces of myself. Sometimes this is not good, and in those cases, I can only counsel them and give warning where I see fit. In my two youngest, I see the best and worst of both their parents. Genetics are a strange and wondrous thing. I am just glad to share this journey through parenting with my husband. Thanks, DearHeart.
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