And then there you were. Red, dirty, screaming your lungs out. So small and yet so great.
I remember how they put me in a wheelchair and rolled me out of the delivery room with you in my arms. I remember visitors standing in the hall, nurses running around. I must have been dead tired, but all I could feel was pride. 'Hello world, this is our son.' A true Lion King moment, I only missed a zebra or two.
Eight weeks old now, you learned how to smile while making a pee fountain. I can't wait till you walk around and fall on your diaper when you forget how it's done. Till you protest against the caps with bear ears I make you wear. In my defense: only grizzlies work them better than you do.
Mon, our little king. You already rule the world.
Pictures by Marijn Van Lommel