Being the parent of an only child I willingly admit he is a little bit spoiled. Not necessarily with material things, although his room would beg otherwise. He on the other hand, would tell you a tale of how deprived he is because at 8 years of age, he doesn't have his own iPhone or tablet. But when it comes to attention, Cole is pretty rotten.

"Mama, tell me about when I was born again," he asked as his 8th birthday neared earlier this week.

"You've heard that story before," I answered.

"I know, but I like hearing it," he said. "The doctors had said you couldn't have a baby, right?"

I nodded. "That's right."

"So I was a miracle baby," he continued.

"You are."

He chewed the inside of his lower lip as he recalled the rest of the story.

"And you gained so much weight Daddy thought you were gonna pop because he had never seen someone get that big and not."

Of course, he remembered that.

I had joked - and truthfully so - that since I had gained 100 pounds while pregnant, it caused one of my friend's husbands to get a vasectomy.

"You had me the way God intended," he said.

I nodded.

Numb from the waist down with a morphine drip in my arm is pretty much the way I believe God wanted us to give birth.

"And when I was born, Grandma busted in recovery to find you and kissed my foot and told the nurse it wasn't cheap lipstick."

I nodded.

He was remembering it well.

My mother-in-law had somehow made her way into the recovery, much to the angst of the nurses.

After seeing I was fine, Gladys pulled Cole's tiny newborn foot out of his blanket and kissed it, leaving a bright red lip print on his foot.

When the nurse asked what the red mark was, Gladys flashed her perfect smile and pushed her blonde curls up with her manicured hand and said: "Oh, it's fine. It's Estee Lauder, darling. Not that cheap stuff you're wearing. This is $26 a tube."

"And Daddy changed my first diaper and screamed so loud the nurse came running," he continued.

True. Lamar did scream. Like a woman.

When the nurse asked him what was wrong, he described in detail the diaper's contents. "That's normal," she told him.

"Are you sure?" he had asked.

The no-nonsense nurse gave him a wary look. "I am sure. You must not have got the new parent memo telling you about the first diaper."

"And when you held me in your arms the first time, that's when you fell in love with me," he said.

"That's not true," I said. "I fell in love with you the instant I knew you were on your way."

He smiled up at me, all dimples and blue eyes.

"Can you believe I am 8, Mama?" he asked.

I shook my head, blinking back tears.

"No, I thought you were going to stay 7 just a little bit longer for me. I'm going to turn around and you'll be graduating high school, then college. It's going by a little too quickly."

He snuggled up beside me in the recliner, ignoring the fact that he is nearly as tall as me and there's not enough room for both of us.

"I'll try to take 8 slower," he said, sounding sincere.

I don't know that there's a lot he can do about that and all I can do, is try to protect him and guide him as he grows up at a rapid fire speed.

"Mama, am I always going to be your baby?" he asked quietly.

"Of course," I said.

"Even when I am grown?"

"Yup," I replied.

"Even when I am bigger than Daddy?"

"Even then."

"What about when I have kids of my own?"

I squeezed him tightly, not wanting to rush the future any faster than it was approaching on its own.

"Even then, you will be my baby. It doesn't matter how big you get, how old, or where you are, you are and will always be my baby."

He smiled, the corners of his mouth reaching his ears as the realization sunk in and he seemed satisfied and very pleased to know, that he would always, always be my baby, no matter what.

Sudie Crouch is an award-winning humor columnist and certified life coach. She lives in the north Georgia mountains with her family and four insane, but fairly well behaved dogs.