You see that picture? Take a closer look, you see the wide eyes of a kid that for the last two days was the king of the winter wonderland and the architect of the greatest snow castle the world has ever seen? Do you see the imagination of someone that still sees the world as the universe and the universe in a bug? Do you see the kid that fought a tree with a sword, making sure to work on his fighting skills should the need arise one day to protect whomever is standing behind him, and do you see the tears in the corner when I had to hold him down so the doctor could look and find the piece of wood when the tree decided to fight back?

I am grateful that he sees the world differently than me. I am happy that his world is big and wide and open, where monsters are hiding behind every corner, and the ninja will stop at nothing to defeat them. I am happy that even the warrior likes to cuddle on the couch and watch silly little cartoons and eat popcorn. I especially love that he still calls me daddy and not dad yet. I often wonder when that will happen, hopefully not soon, and when it does I will promptly tell him that he can just call me his old man. I like that better.

I am happy for the picnics we enjoy inside on rainy days and the naps we take outside on warm ones. I like the size of small dirty hands when I put them in mine, him distracted by the site of something I cannot see with my own eyes, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not there in his. I love the smell of his hair when I go check on him when he is deep in the mist of a dream, and I love that it smells like dirt or grass or sweat from the adventures he went on that day.

I don’t know how much longer he will be my little boy. I hear all the time people talk about how they wish their little ones wouldn’t grow up, that they would stay this magical age and play with them forever. I may be crazy, but I can’t wait to see the man he becomes, the real adventures he goes on, the thoughts he learns to think. I am in no big hurry though, I will be more than happy to take the long way around the mountain, but I will be proud when he is big enough to climb it on his own. And I will sit at the bottom, perhaps my legs too weak then to climb it with him, and wait for him to come back to me, and tell me about the view, and how he wishes I could have been there with him.

I will look into those wonderful eyes and hope that I can still see the wonder and excitement that I see in them now. I hope he still looks at me and asks questions about how frogs jump so high or where does God live. I’m sure our talks will change but I hope the chance to have them never does. I hope I can sit across from him and tell him about my life before him and how I once was a little boy too, that had similar adventures but perhaps different dreams. I hope he isn’t in a hurry to leave those talks, but I will understand if he is. I look into those eyes and like the picture above shows, I can see my reflection, staring back at me in the best mirror I can ever ask for, and I love that I can ask my wonderful mirror, who’s is the greatest daddy of all, he will look at me with that slight tilt of the head, and tell me “it’s you, daddy, you are the greatest daddy.”

He is starting to wake up, I hear his little footsteps coming. I must go now and see what fun adventures he went on last night.