By Eve Bell

Milestones and birthdays were my weak link as a mum when my children were young.

I remember crying when my son went up a size of babygrow.

When he lost his first tooth, it nearly broke my tear ducts.

I know now that came from a place of fear.

A fear of missing the boy he was at that age.

But I realise now that he was always exactly the age he was meant to be.

With each age and stage bringing light and dark.

As life does.

He never ever has been anything other than present.

He is always right here.

Teaching me that it is pointless being anywhere else.

And right here is his 16^th birthday.

An age you think will never come when you are in the long days of early motherhood.

But this might just be my favourite age.

I say that every year.

To see him flourishing with confidence as he gets more independence is pure joy.

Until he gets into a car. But that’s for next year’s post.

His enthusiasm for what might just be is invigorating.

It’s like being in a Choose Your Own Adventure book.

But I’m not the main character.

I just get to go along for the ride.

And the best thing is, he wants me there on that adventure with him.

And it might be my best one yet.