I was listening to a story on CNN about how hospitals are prohibiting children to visit because children are most susceptible to H1N1. It made me think of stories mom tell about when I was born. You and Scott were chasing through traffic in the hospital parking lot. Mom was scared to death that one of you would get hit by a car so she wouldn’t let dad stay long.
Once I came home, you were still running all over, tearing up the house. You were our own little Tasmanian Devil. You could see a cyclone leaving a path of destruction and you were at the center. However, when you came to my playpen or crib, you would reach in, gently pat me and say “My baby.” That was your one moment of calm. Then you’d continue on your path of destruction.
I wish for those days again when you were my big brother protecting me from the big, bad world. I wish for the days when I was your baby.
I love you still, my Danny Boy.