Six

My little man is six years old. And while he seems to be marking the occasion with a whole lot more sass than I am used to from my generally much more compliant one, he still wins me over every night when he begs me to sing him the same bedtime song I have been singing since his first night home from the hospital in our tiny brown apartment in Toledo, Ohio.

I could go on for days about everything in this little man's heart that makes me smile.

But for now, I just cannot believe that he is six years old.

P.S. The giant smile above (and the pith hat, which may seem odd out of context) is from his six-year-old birthday party. More on that to come soon.