These are the days of snips and of snails. Of endless exploring and blazing new trails. Of hiding behind me because you’re just feeling shy, of singing your favorite lullaby.
These are the days of favorite plates and cups and eagerly waiting for big garbage trucks. Days of backward shirts and digging in the dirt. Time ticking by with just you and I.
These are the days of dandelion seeds and chasing dancing bubbles in the breeze. Days of “a little higher and faster” and childhood laughter.
Days of delight in your eyes over every simple surprise, and believing that if you really practice, you’ll fly.
These are the days of wanting time to stand still. Days of fingerprints and spills and rolling barefoot down hills. Of long play-filled hours and sweet wildflowers you secretly place on the windowsill.
These are the days of your hand in mine. Of begging to go down the slide “one more time!” Of marveling at how you’ve grown so tall as I measure your height against the wall.
These are the days of learning to be brave, throwing on your cape as you smile and wave. Of invisible battles and climbing up trees, of being the hero and rescuing me.
These are the days of puppy dog kisses and little boy wishes.
Of learning new things and chasing your dreams. Days of catching fireflies in a jar to keep, reading bedtime stories, and watching you sleep.
These are the days of ouchies and hugs, showing me each of your rocks and your bugs. Days of childhood struggles and midnight snuggles. All the world’s problems solved in the cuddles.
These are the days of “just one more kiss,” and hoping I’ll remember all of this . . . days of loving you in a thousand ways.
Yes, little man, these are the days.