His whimsy is leaning just a little more toward contemplation. He is soft faced with tiny muscled arms. I can see his brow furrowed with curiosity and his heart growing with ideas and with love. His days are a swirl of nose in books, magic libraries, comic drawing, bow and arrows, bikes and tearing around the neighborhood with friends. Always wanting to be shirtless and bare footed to feel the air and the dirt beneath him, this wiry boy of mine. He is not too old to rest his head on me early in the morning and his hand matches mine now, when palm to palm. He is an adventurer and a lover of Jesus. He will still always ask for one more chapter. I watch him, this first son of my heart and I could burst with love for his wild and tender spirit. It is deep joy to know him and to watch him become.