Pajama-clad legs and slippered feet gathered around the crackling of the fire, we warmed our hands on tumblers of hot cocoa and sweet, creamy coffee... and watched as the birthday clock flipped from 13 to 14.
Oh yes, it is true... there is hardly a glimpse of baby in that face that has stretched and slimmed and is working its way towards chiseled. I flicker between joy and sorrow, but rest in mystified. The hows and whys are for Him alone... I am just witness to time skipping by.
This is his time... his day. To laugh and climb and smile and wish, and I am pretty sure we covered it all.