Is there any way you can do me a favor?
See this smiley face?
(Total aside: If you’ve ever met Danton, you’ll never forget his smile.)
Today is his birthday, and he is a faithful reader of the blog (He was asking me about the shoe collection since yesterday), and I want to surprise him.
Can you wish him a happy birthday in the comments?
I still remember when they put him in my arms, and those big brown eyes (Like his father) blinked at me as if to say, “Hello world. I’m here, and this is going to be a lot of fun.”
And suddenly? in any way?
All these years later, it’s still just as much fun.
I am the luckiest duck in the whole world to be his mother.
I wish we could have a huge visit and greet you all with birthday cake and candles.
But instead?
I’m going to do the next best thing.
Today I want to celebrate this sweet son of mine with a story.
That explains more about it than I can.
When you’re a parent, you talk a lot.
You talk about being nice and waiting your turn and making good choices and respecting each other and speaking in an inner voice and trying your hardest and keeping your promises.
All lectures.
All words of wisdom.
All the lessons of life.
And in the midst of all that talk and discussion, sometimes you sigh and wonder if anyone is listening.
Then something happens that lets you know they heard (almost) every word.
You see, my son Danton gave me a book.
Not just any book.
A compilation book of all the love stories I’ve written on Thistlewood Farm.
All 13 of them.
He took the posts and put them in chronological order and bound them in a hardcover volume.
And then he wrote an introduction that went a little something like this:
“These are real life true love stories.
Sometimes happy.
Sometimes sad.
Perhaps embellished.
But what isn’t a good story?
You see, Kerrienne Wood, author of Thistlewood Farm, is my mother.
She is witty.
She is persistent.
And, of course, she is a great storyteller, just like her father.
So today, I’m sharing her love story with her and the world (as she passionately told it).
And when he gave me the book….
…I didn’t say anything.
I couldn’t.
I just looked at my simple stories written in a book with actual numbered pages – with every last exclamation point and ellipsis.
And then I started crying.
Not cute crying like in the movies. Real, un-cute, honest crying that comes from somewhere deep in your heart. I cried and stared at the book and cried more.
And I hugged her.
And cried some more.
and hugged him again.
Then I opened the book and started reading.
There it was, every chapter of the real-life love story between his mother and his father.
It started In the beginning.
And Continued with our first date.
And the First time I really tried to cook.
And the Our first wedding dance.
And the I saw my husband for the first time when he arrived home from his deployment.
And on and on and on the love story goes.
It’s Denton.
It makes every day an adventure.
He has an amazing habit of turning the most ordinary moments into something extraordinary.
He is the master of ceremonies at every event and the leader of his small group of cousins, sisters and brothers.
He’s thoughtful and generous and kind and funny and never met a pun he didn’t like.
Denton, I love you more than I can ever put into words.
You are my first born, my cheerleader, my recipe tester, my sounding board, daddy’s workout buddy and the keeper of all stories.
Thank you for every laugh, every smile, every conversation and every moment.
But most of all? Thank you for being you.
And now?
In surprising news?
You are engaged.
My heart smiles bigger than the state of Texas as I write that.
I am so happy that you are engaged to one of the sweetest girls on this planet, and now you are starting your own chapters, your own stories, and your own adventures.
And I am the luckiest mom in the world who has a front row seat. 
Happy birthday, Denton.
I love you and I always will.
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