Barely 10 years old, I had my first babies (not baby dolls by the way) … that was 40 years ago …

They were my baby brothers (two of them)..

My mum was unwell after the birth; so I became a mum for the first time – don’t get me wrong (this is not a sad story of there being no one else and me having to step up, as I had all the suport in the world and my mum got better after a few months), but I guess I had to do a lot more than perhaps, I would have had to, if mum had been well… but that set the tone of my relationship with those babies…

Over the years as well, as the only girl of 6 children; mum used to say to me “remember you are their mum…”

40 years on; the babies I used to mummy (who sometimes now remind me of the side pinches I gave them when teaching them maths/their times table/helping with homework 😊) are now men …

40 years on; those babies have become my friends,

40 years on; they stand taller than me,

40 years on; they have become my go-to-guys when I need to get things done,

40 years on; they are great Uncles to my children,

40 years on; the list goes on about who my very first live babies have become …

Today, 40 years on from first holding my very first babies in my arms, I celebrate the men they have become…

I am so proud to call them my baby brothers. (Ejire ar’sokun. Omo onitire)

Happy 40th birthday darlings; love you loads. 😘❤

📝 Originally published on my first blog, bitalks and carried forward here as part of the journey that shapes Life’s Riches. Shared here as part of my reflections on people, memory, and the riches of life.