I'm grateful for this little guy that I get to call my son
(When I took this photo, he told me he'd make his "nice smile". This is it).
With his freckles, his incredible sense of style (today he went to school in a coonskin cap), his endless creativity, messy inventions, profound question (what's out there PAST space? who made the earth? what did the first owl look like?), and his courageous little heart, he brings light to my days.
I wish I could always keep him like this, innocent and sweet, blissfully unaware of the troubles of the world. I wish I believed that kids will embrace his quirkiness instead of making him feel like it's wrong to be different.
I know his unique spirit will thrive in this world of sameness, and I embrace all the things that mean he's a square peg sometimes.
He's perfect to me, in all his bad-temper, soft-hugs, jokes-that-don't-make-sense-but-crack-him-up-anyway, potion-making, creative ways.
I'm so grateful that he's mine, at least for this small part of his life.