growing. . .

Tuesday night, Jack was a little misty-eyed. . . sentimental. . .

about turning 6.

He wasn't ready to turn 6. He liked being five. He wasn't ready to change all the things that he had grown to love and become someone new. Someone 6.

He loved dressing the part of Indiana Jones and chasing bad guys. . .loving puppies and taking care of them, dreaming of the day of being a veterinarian (but only if that means never having to move out of our home. . .). . .building legos. . .and playing video games. . .watching fun toons and breakfasting on chocolate chip pancakes. . .a world where every little thing is quite magical. . . and maybe you can fly like Peter Pan, or catch a bird. . .

Dark brown eyes. . . a deep cup almost overflowing with that small stream of tears for dreams and childhood magic. . .so much like the sparkling stream where he and his Dada catch summer salamanders. . .

My heart breaking for a little boy that I want to hold in my palms forever. . . my little Peter Pan who will never grow up. . . who still slips his hand in mine when we cross the street. . .

And I. . . Mama. . . assured him that the magical won't disappear. . . That he will still love all the very things that he loves right now. . . That he will still be that same little boy. . . That 6 is a day to celebrate that little boy we waited for. . .for so very long. . .and that we are so happy that he is finally here. . .

A birthday. . . is a celebration day. . .