My son had his first hickey last week;
It startled me – I actually shrieked.

I find notes from girls when I wash his clothes.
They love him, his smile, his eyes, (even his nose!)

Sometimes a stranger will jolt me, wake me from sleep
Until I realize it’s him – his voice, now so deep.

His feet, once tiny, clad in booties of blue
Now require a huge, size 12 shoe.

There’s a fringe of hair across his lip,
And I caught him sneaking a beer (Mom! Just a sip?)

The youngest of the four, he’s no longer small,
Like his dad, he’s destined to be tall.

His sense of humor is different, perhaps trendy,
He asked if outgoing mail is simply quite friendly.

I ground him a lot, for infractions big and small,
Then I find a card, for me, with his usual scrawl –

“Mom, you’ve got to give it a rest, get over the hickey
You know that I love you, your son, Mickey.”