This afternoon as I was watching a certain adorable blonde little boy pulling his wagon around the backyard, it hit me again right in the chest. He's mine. I have a son.
Maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet, after all these years of girls, and maybe it never will, but some days I feel the need to pinch myself as I see this BOY running around my life--my BOY. My carpet is littered with "ucks" and car ramps and pint-sized tools. I don't dare take my eyes off him while dinner is getting made because I know that he'll be on the table helping himself to whatever he can find. He loves to find bugs, inspect them, handle them, and then stomp on them. At his sisters' soccer games I spend more time keeping him from joining the game than watching the game. When he sees a fire truck, he makes a siren sound. And the catch of his breath and excited voice saying "UCK" over any kind of truck he spies, makes me smile every time.