He is no longer the tiny boy who gripped my neck before preschool for a time, refusing to enter the room. We would sit outside the door and talk and I would hold him until he was ready. I had the unfettered luxury of doing that, then.
He’s big and small at the same time, and he reaches milestones faster than I can keep up.
This summer, he’ll be taking a trip with my husband on a father-son fly fishing trip a few states away from where we live. His grandfather will be there and two of his great-uncles, and they will dote on him and love having him there with them. It’s a rite of passage; my husband started traveling with his dad on this annual week-long fishing trip when he was 8 as well.
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