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Millennium Baby Reaches His Twelfth Year

My Millennium baby.

What a ruddy stupid time to be pregnant. Whilst everyone else in the entire Universe was out partying to the event of a lifetime which only comes around every twenty-six generations or so, I was eight months pregnant, watching the fireworks from my bedroom window, in my over-sized pajamas (since I was indeed, oversized).

I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Look what I got.

I have tracked his twelve faster-than-light-years birthdays carefully, and here he sits, in chronological order, central to my family stories, his journey from babe to man only half complete.

So, since he himself will only cringe with “Mom, you’re not putting that on the internet are you?” Embarrassment, I thought I’d share it all with you, my cyber-friends.

Georgie, you may not always be an angel, but you were indeed a gift from Heaven and you changed my life forever.

Anyone else got a Millennium baby out there? 

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