“Mom!” My sixteen year old son, Sage, announced excitedly to me at a Bat Mitzvah party this past weekend, a huge smile on his face. “The guy at the ice cream bar called me dude!”
“That’s amazing!” I exclaimed, hugging Sage. “I love you so much!” I whispered into his ear during our embrace.
My son is truly my hero.
In 1999, I gave birth to my first born child, a healthy and perfect beautiful baby girl. The moment I held her, I was filled with love and dreams; dreams of her first day of kindergarten, her first prom, her first kiss, her wedding day as she graced the chuppah in her flowing white dress. I knew my daughter’s future from the moment I met her. She was my mini me…or so I thought.
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