These are my boys...
They used to fit between my elbow and fingertips and fall asleep on my chest.
They used to hang on my legs, rest on my hips, and ride on my back.
They used to hold my hand on walks and crawl into my lap at church.
They used to paint me pictures with their fingers and make crafts out of their handprints.
They used to fill their pockets with rocks, sticks, flowers, and bugs and give them to me as gifts.
They used to build forts, concoct magic potions, and include me in their make-believe kingdoms.
They used to sing me silly songs, tell fart jokes, and dance like goofballs.
They used to build massive Lego creations and eagerly anticipate my amazement.
They used to convince me to read ‘just one more book’ before every bedtime.
They used to ask me endless questions and talk my ear off from dawn until dusk.
Now they tower over me like gentle giants and stand beside me as pillars of strength.
Now they scoop me up in their grown-up arms and melt my heart with their warm embrace.
Now they are strong enough to carry me on their back, both literally and figuratively.
Now they share their thoughts on life and blow me away with their insight and wisdom.
Now they teach me how to be a better human and see the world from new perspectives.
Now they inspire me to love better and live lighter and dream bigger.
Now they encourage me to follow my heart and believe in myself.
Now they give me the gift of their time and the joy of their stories.
Now they fill my soul as I watch them love and adore the partners they do life with.
Now they take my breath away as I observe them following their passions and serving the world.
Oh, the magic. Oh, the wonder. Oh, the joy of raising boys.
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