My seven year old spins through life now. Sometimes, there’s echoes of that sweet little boy. But more often now there are farts and begging and running around. There’s arguing and complaining and asking again. There’s this little boy who is struggling to be a man and learning to fill out his body and his needs and his wants.
And then there is me, wanting it to all go just a bit more slowly, to let the wonder last a little longer.