Henry, Julia Roberts’ “beautiful” son, turns 17 today: a rare look at her youngest Julia Roberts celebrated her youngest son’s 17th birthday on Instagram with a beautiful picture. Despite the unexpected image—Julia is typically known to be reticent about her children—she and her spouse have previously revealed incredible photos of Henry Moder that have left people in awe.
Date: June 29, 2024 Writer: James William None to say Henry, Julia Roberts’ “beautiful” son, turns 17 today: a rare look at her youngest Julia Roberts celebrated her youngest son’s 17th birthday on Instagram with a beautiful picture. Despite the unexpected image—Julia is typically known to be reticent about her children—she and her spouse have previously revealed incredible photos of Henry Moder that have left people in awe. A very happy birthday to the kid of Hollywood’s most renowned couple, Julia Roberts and Daniel Moder! Henry Moder, the youngest member of their family, turned seventeen on June 18. A flurry of encouraging remarks have been left on social media by his loving mother, who celebrated the joyous occasion with a number of beautiful mother-son messages. In the photo, the “Pretty Woman” actress is seen looking down at Henry, who is still a newborn. Her eyes are shining with delight and affection. The curious and charming baby seems absorbed in something outside of the frame, cradled in his mother’s protective arms.
Julia expressed both her pride and her shock in a succinct yet beautiful caption she penned for the picture. It’s incredible how this little child has developed into a fantastic 17-year-old! She wrote, “Happy Birthday, Henry! You are beautiful.” Although Julia and Henry’s father, Daniel, respect their children’s privacy, on occasion the pair provides exclusive photos and videos of their children. Daniel in particular has been entertaining fans on social media with videos of Henry, Hazel, and Phinnaeus Moder enjoying a good time, showcasing precious family moments.
Daniel posted a video on Instagram of Henry showing off his skating skills at a skate park. In the slow-motion video, the child can be seen riding his skateboard up an incline while wearing dark pants and an olive-colored t-shirt.Henry succeeds in turning the board around at the top of the ramp, putting his gorgeous face in the frame of the camera. Then, when the camera pans closer, his attractive eyes and face are shown in close-up.Daniel shared the incredible footage on June 18, 2021, in observance of Henry’s 14th birthday. The springs twist and swirl, swaying fourteen times in the air. Ya Henry,” the proud father captioned the photo.
In the post’s comment area, followers of the now-17-year-old were applauding and thanking him in addition to sharing their thoughts on which parent Henry most resembled. “He looks just like you. Nice child, said one of his supporters.In agreement, a second person remarked, “Looks precisely like his Dad!lovely offspring While acknowledging the father-son likeness, the other individual also highlighted Henry’s mother, remarking, “Has mom’s hair.” There is no denying that child. Hehe.On the other hand, a commenter on Instagram said, “This family obviously has no Roberts genes at all!” Once more, after Henry’s father-lookalike shared an earlier picture of his child on social media, people swarmed to the comments area.
Henry is seen in the 2018 picture posing casually stylish in a lighthouse. The boy on skates looked down at the camera, his long hair falling in a carefree way to frame his face.”Look closely to see the star spangled shorts,” Daniel captioned the surreal picture. One cool young person…Happy Fourth of July from a lighthouse near the Cape. Beneath the picture, an admirer remarked, “Handsome Henry,” and another, “Julia’s eyes.”Whether or not Henry and his siblings look alike, Julia is still incredibly in love with them. She has often boasted about them and places her responsibilities as a mother above all else.
During an interview promoting her latest movie, “Ticket to Paradise,” Julia was asked how she defined herself as a homemaker by the interviewer. “When I’m not working, that’s my full-time job,” stated the mother of three. Though it’s not all sunshine and kittens, I am really delighted about it.
She also discussed her unique bond with Henry, whom she refers to as her breakfast partner as they both benefit much from that most important meal of the day. I love breakfast, thus it’s my favorite meal. My morning buddy is my younger son Henry,” Julia remarked.The interviewer was so aware of the “Notting Hill” actress’s love of breakfast that they made a joke about how the interview would keep her from eating with Henry Moder. Yes, in fact! We love eating breakfast! With a smile, Julia Roberts concurred.
Julia loves her twins Phinnaeus and Hazel in addition to Henry. As her lone daughter joined her father, a cinematographer, at the 2021 Cannes Film Festival to promote his film “Flag Day,” Julia spoke affectionately about Hazel. The audience was captivated by the father-daughter exchange and shocked by how much Daniel looked like her.Hazel, then sixteen, wore a stylish yet laid-back outfit for the well-known event. She wore black Mary Janes with big heels and a yellow button-down dress with floral lace embroidery. Her fair hair was likewise tied back into a ponytail by her. On the other hand, her father looked dapper in a black suit.Hazel’s parents, especially her mother, expressed her happiness with her behavior, praising her for her excellent behavior. Recalling the exceptional event, Julia praised her daughter and made fun of their arguments on her appearance and her self-assured refusal to apply eyeliner, remarking, “That girl is unique.”The innocence really is so lovely.
When fans saw pictures of the young lady on her father’s arm, they complimented Hazel’s looks and labeled her pretty, but they also made note of the physical differences between Julia and Hazel. “She’s lovely but you’d never guess who her mom is…they really are not alike at all,” a supporter commented.
Another person said something like, “She doesn’t look anything like her Mum.” While some people stated that Hazel resembles her father more than Julia, others pointed out that the two are not the same. Even while many people thought Hazel and Julia didn’t look identical, many still complimented the 19-year-old on her good looks.
My Daughter’s MIL Called Me a Beggar and Kicked Me Out of My Granddaughter’s Birthday Party – Story of the Day
I spent the little I had just to see my granddaughter smile on her birthday. But before she even saw me, her other grandma called me a beggar and wanted to have me thrown out, like I didn’t matter at all.
Five years.
That’s how long I had been living in silence…
Silence after Linda, my wife.
Silence after Emily, our daughter.
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Every morning, I woke up more from habit than will. I opened the kitchen window, breathed in the cold air, and sat at the same table, watching the same patch of light crawl across the wall.
When it reached the shelf with the teacups, I knew morning had come.
And that I was still alone.
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It had started that winter. Linda had fallen ill. She was shivering, coughing, and barely eating.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” I told her that evening. “We’re not playing games here, honey.”
“Oh, Frank, come on,” she waved her hand from under the blanket. “We can’t afford another medical bill. I’ll drive to the pharmacy myself. It’s five minutes.”
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“Linda, please,” I begged. “Don’t go. I’ll go. Or we’ll call a taxi.”
“I’m not a child. Just give me the keys, okay?”
I stood in the hallway holding her purse, watching her pull on her coat. For a moment, I thought of stopping her. But I didn’t.
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She smiled.
“I’ll be back soon. Put the kettle on.”
I did.
But she never came back.
Her car slid off the road on black ice. A truck didn’t stop in time.
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At the funeral, I held myself together until Emily approached. I tried to explain.
“Sweetheart… it was an accident. I tried to stop her.”
She didn’t meet my eyes.
“You should’ve tried harder. If you’d just once stood your ground… And now she’s dead. Because you let her leave.”
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I wanted to speak, to explain, to shout…. But the words never left my throat. So, that was the last time we spoke.
Since then — nothing.
I called every few months. Sent little notes. Photos from the past — her first bike ride, Christmas by the fireplace.
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Sometimes I left voicemails like:
“Hi, Emily. It’s Dad. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
But the silence remained. No replies. Not even a card for Christmas.
I learned how to live cheaply. Slept in my coat in winter when the radiator barely worked. Lived on tea and dry toast.
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My pension wasn’t much, but I saved every spare penny. I stashed it in an old biscuit tin in the wardrobe, under my folded shirts.
It was my safety net. For when I got too sick to care for myself. For the time when no one would be around to help me. I never touched that money. Not for food, not even when my shoes had holes in them.
Better to freeze now than beg later.
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One morning, I stared at the latest electric bill. The numbers blurred in front of me.
“That’s it. I’ve had enough.”
On the grocery store bulletin board, I noticed a handwritten note:
“Looking for a part-time janitor at Little Pines Preschool. Morning shift.”
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I stood in front of it for a long time. Eventually, I pulled off the tab with the number and slipped it into my coat pocket.
I thought I was just taking a job. I had no idea I was about to find the one thing I never dared hope for.
***
I started working at the preschool the following week.
I woke up at dawn, drank strong coffee, pulled on my old brown sweater, and stepped out into the still-dark morning.
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Where there had once been silence, finally there was laughter. Tiny faces, bright jackets, and backpacks tangled with dinosaurs and mermaids.
I didn’t feel like an outsider. Quite the opposite.
“Good morning, Frank!”
The kids always shouted the moment I opened the gate.
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I became part of their morning ritual. They waved at me with mittened hands, brought me leaves and chestnuts, they insisted we “absolutely must plant.”
But one little girl stood out from the rest from the very beginning.
“Are you a real shovel master?” she asked seriously on my first day, as I raked up wet leaves near the playground slide.
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“Well, depends on how you look at it,” I said, scratching the back of my head. “I don’t have a diploma, but I’ve got years of experience.”
She laughed — a big, honest laugh, without fear of the new stranger.
“I’m Sophie. And I’m the boss of the Yellow Bunnies group.”
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I smiled.
“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Bunny. My name is Frank.”
After that, Sophie was always nearby.
If I fixed a fence, she held the nails. If I swept the yard, she wiped the benches with a cloth. She was like a small sun — endlessly curious, a little bold, not like the other kids.
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“Do you have a dog?”
“Were you ever a famous singer?”
“Have you ever flown to the moon?”
I answered every question as if it were the most important thing in the world. Sophie nodded seriously, as if filing that information away for later.
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One afternoon, as we sat together on a bench, she pulled a pendant out from under her sweater. Small, round, silver. Delicate engravings around the edge.
My breath caught.
“What a beautiful necklace. Who gave it to you?”
“My Mom! And she got it from my grandma.”
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She patted the pendant proudly.
“It brings good luck. Mom says, ‘Wear it when you’re sad — Grandma will be right there with you.’”
I managed a weak smile.
I knew that pendant.
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I had picked it out myself for Linda in a jewelry store 30 years ago. Linda had given it to Emily on her 18th birthday.
I remembered whispering back then:
“For our little star.”
I wanted to say something. Anything. But I just nodded.
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“Do you have a granddaughter?” Sophie suddenly asked, looking straight into my eyes.
I swallowed hard.
“Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. I don’t really know.”
“That’s sad,” she said thoughtfully. “How can someone not know about their own granddaughter?”
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I shrugged, staring down at the faded sand under our feet.
“Sometimes people get lost. And sometimes… others lose them.”
Suddenly, Sophie grabbed my hand.
“My birthday’s coming up soon. I’ll be five! Will you come?”
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“If you invite me,” I smiled, “I’ll definitely be there.”
“I’ll make you a special invitation myself, okay?”
“Okay.”
“There’s going to be lots of balloons! And cake! But don’t bring me a present, please. I already asked Mom for a piano, but she said it’s too much. Cake’s enough.”
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“I’ll think about it. Maybe someone will show up with music anyway.”
Sophie laughed joyfully and ran back to her group.
I stayed sitting there on the bench. I didn’t know for sure. But my heart was already shouting — that was her. That was my granddaughter.
And if I was wrong, so be it. But if I was right…
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***
The restaurant buzzed with music and laughter. Bright balloons floated against the ceiling, and a giant pink cake stood proudly on a long table surrounded by gifts.
I stood quietly near the entrance, holding a small box in my hand — a tiny piano charm on a silver chain, wrapped carefully, trembling slightly in my fingers.
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I had ironed my old white shirt until it nearly shone. My brown jacket, worn but clean, hung loose on my shoulders.
I wasn’t anyone special there. Just a man at the edge of someone else’s celebration.
Across the room, I saw Sophie. Her hair was tied up in two bouncy pigtails, her eyes lighting up when she spotted me.
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She began waving, her face beaming, but before she could get close, a hand clamped down on her shoulder.
Marianne. My daughter’s MIL. Tall, sharp-eyed, her pearl suit immaculate.
She bent low to Sophie, whispering harsh words into her ear, before steering her away, casting a glance at me. Recognition flickered across her face. Her mouth twisted into a tight smile, a hunter spotting a trapped prey.
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“Well, look who crawled out from under a rock,” she said, just loud enough for others to hear.
“How touching. Thought you’d come begging, old man?”
I stiffened. “I’m here because Sophie invited me. Not for anything else.”
Marianne’s laugh was cruel.
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“Oh, of course. That’s why you disappeared for five years, right? Left poor Emily to grieve alone while you drank yourself into oblivion?”
I opened my mouth to protest, but the injustice caught in my throat. Behind Marianne, I saw Emily returning with a tray of cupcakes. She hadn’t seen us yet.
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Marianne leaned closer, her voice a hiss:
“You think you can just show up and they’ll welcome you with open arms? After everything?”
I shook my head.
“I never left. I wrote. I called. I sent letters. Every Christmas, every birthday…”
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She laughed again, low and bitter.
“And what letters? What calls? Emily never got anything from you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Emily finally looking at us. Frowning. Approaching.
“You’re lying,” I said, louder this time.
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“Am I? Then where were all those precious letters?”
Emily was close now, close enough to hear.
“I sent you letters too!” she blurted out, her voice cracking. “I wrote… I wrote so many times… birthday cards, Christmas cards… You never answered!”
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My heart lurched.
“I never got them. Not one.”
For a heartbeat, silence hung between us. Emily turned slowly to Marianne, horror dawning in her eyes.
“You said… You said he didn’t want anything to do with me. You told me he didn’t care.”
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Marianne’s face hardened.
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“I protected you. He’s a burden, Emily! Always was. I did what I had to do.”
“You stole my letters,” Emily said, her voice rising. “You lied to me! For years!”
A few guests were watching now, their smiles fading into uncomfortable glances.
“And you,” Emily turned on me, tears brimming. “You thought I didn’t care either.”
I nodded, throat too tight to speak.
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Suddenly, a delivery truck pulled up outside. Two men climbed out, wrestling a small upright piano onto the sidewalk.
“Delivery for Sophie!”
I looked down at my shoes.
“I don’t have much,” I said quietly. “Just my pension. But I saved for that. For her.”
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Emily covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head.
“I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
“I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
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Without warning, Emily stumbled forward and threw her arms around me, squeezing tightly, as if afraid I might vanish.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Dad.”
I held her back, my chest breaking open from years of silence and grief.
Meanwhile, Marianne stood frozen, pale and rigid, ignored by everyone around her.
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Sophie, clutching a balloon, peeked out from behind a chair.
“The storm ended?”
Emily wiped her eyes and knelt beside her.
“Sophie… This is your grandpa. The best man in the world.”
Sophie looked up at me, grinned, and said, loud and clear:
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“So… you do have a granddaughter after all, huh? Now you really know.”
For a second, the whole world seemed to hold its breath. I laughed and dropped to my knees to pull her into my arms.
We had lost so many years. But standing there, holding Sophie in my arms, I knew — the best ones were still ahead.
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