My Baby Boy

In Crisashyland last night, I was messing around with the computer and found a picture of my son I hadn't seen before. It had been taken by one of his friends and been downloaded onto my computer. Just looking at it made me realise that he really is a man. He's no longer my baby boy, he's strong and independent. Its funny cos I see him every day, tell him I love him every day and without exception tell him to be careful as he goes out of the door but I take for granted that he is still 'my boy'. I've told both him and his sister to "be careful" since they were teenagers and in some silly way, I'm now frightened not to say it. I suppose its a bit like not daring to change your lottery numbers, it feels like tempting fate. He's 26 now, he's left home twice and come back - he knows the door will always be open. Clare, my daughter, says he'll be here till he's 40 cos its such an easy life - doesn't cost much, comfy home, washing done, meals when you want them! OK I'm a pushover, I accept it, but you can't change the habits of a lifetime - can you?