Yesterday our little Middle-Middle (who isn’t so little anymore) turned 6. Middle-Middle refers to his current order amongst the boys in our family. He is (for now), the middle child. He earned his code name when he was 3 and he was in the height of naughtiness. He was being scolded for some ridiculous violation of the rules and he responded by telling me “middle, middle, middle means trouble, trouble, trouble”. How do you discipline that?!? That’s always been my issue with him. How do you discipline a TOTAL charmer. M-M is small for his age. He’ll tell you it’s because he’s part Asian. “Asian people tend to be smaller”. I have no clue where he learned that. That’s him though.
His stature probably has a little to do with his beginnings. He loves to tell this story, so he has no problem with me sharing it. It’s a source of pride. Our boy was born in bath tub in the home of his birth mom in fabulous Las Vegas. He was still six to eight weeks from his due date (he was born a 32 week preemie). She woke in the night to find that her water had broke. She called someone to come and take her to the hospital, but too late. He decided he wasn’t waiting. He was born eight minutes later. His birth mom told us how she lovingly delivered him. Every choice she made for him was out of love. We have pics of her, she’s beaming in every one of them. She kissed him goodbye as we tucked his tiny little self into his car seat and she told him “I thank God for the wonderful life I know you’ll have”. She is an awesome testament to selfless love. She didn’t have to continue with her pregnancy, but she did, because (as she said) she knew that he was meant for someone else.
Here he is. This was in Las Vegas, in July (it was hot like Ghana), when we went to get him. He couldn’t make it easy, born in a bath tub, eight weeks early, in Las Vegas, in July!!!! He’s been living that way ever since. We love you, Middle-Middle!!! We rejoice at the kind of “trouble” you bring to our lives every single day.