“Want to go outside?” he says to the dog in his sweet still little boy voice. Not so little, but it’s how he talks to the dog. And I hold onto the illusion that I could just scoop him up in my arms.
When we stand toe to toe he starts with his flat palm measuring his height and then compares it to mine. I think he cheats with that slight upward slope toward me. But there is no denying he’ll be taller me in a few months.
The lot of them. My little men. Men.
I sighed right there. Time. It passes. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just, sometimes I am surprised by how tangible it can be.
