He's learning to cook now, too. He's as tall as Lochlan, finally. He's great with the pets and I taught him to mow the yard myself, though he hates doing it because it's hot out and it takes forever. Caleb taught him basic money management (and how to shave). I give him a weekly allowance for walking the dog, folding laundry, taking out the garbage and recycling and emptying dishwashers. Occasionally he picks up the side yard after the dog and he vacuums and dusts and helps with meals. In turn he puts almost one hundred percent of his money in his bank account. He doesn't know what he's saving it for yet. The future, probably, he says.
He has a hell of a sense of humor, sporting a very classic-style delivery too. He hates shaving, by the way but loves to play video games and watch movies with us and he will enjoy chocolate cake for breakfast for the next few days very, very much. I got him a big book about the history of weaponry and a bunch of other fun things I know he will like.
I don't like to say much about the children because I never wanted to trade their privacy for page views but Henry is a healthy, gigantic honor roll-making typical fourteen-year-old whom I love with all my heart and I'm proud of him. I'm not going to use this sort of platform to wish him a Happy Birthday. He doesn't have social media (no one of his age needs it) and he doesn't know about the blog so instead I'll just tell you that I do appreciate the fact that no one presses for more information about the children. It's been a hard limit for a decade, you wouldn't get very far.
But it doesn't make me any less thrilled to be his mother, let me tell you. I wished him a Happy Birthday in person, when I woke him up this morning. The hugs he gives me while he is still half-asleep sustains me in a way I can't describe.