My whole world could fall apart, but I'd be fine as long as I had my children. Moments with them are some of the most beautiful moments of my life. My oldest son is almost six, and he's playing football. All he ever wants to do with me is practice plays or play catch and he doesn't understand why he has to wait so many years to play for the BSU Broncos. Watching him play football amazes me because when I see him out there, I see my baby boy, my 9 lb 9 oz baby boy, to whom moments after his birth, I swore my eternal love. And now he's out there giving high fives and tackling other kids (it's flag football, but in reality, it's tackle). He said to me one day that he'd like basketball if basketball was played outside on the grass and you could tackle people. I told him that would make it football. He said, "Yeah, I guess so."
The amazing thing is that you think there is no way you can love another child as much as your first, but you're proven wrong. My second born, Ethan, is 4 1/2. I'm always catching myself laughing at the things he does, like when he has a secret and you try to get it out of him and he just grins and says, "Not tellin'." Or when he lowers his head and charges at me like a bull...because he wants to give me a hug. Or how he says, "Dad? I really love you." Sometimes when he's asleep at night, I kiss him on the cheek and tell him I love him. And then he says, "Love you too, Dad."
And then there's the youngest, 2 1/2 year old Charlie. He likes to jump and run and get dirty. He's a little bit like Max on "Max and Ruby." Take your eyes off him for a few minutes and there's no telling what kind of mess might be made. He loves his train table and gets mad when anyone messes with it. Not much can distract him from his train table, unless I call to him and say "Hey Charlie, do you want breakfast?" And then I hear him say, "Oh, yes, Dad," and he comes running.
I'd die a thousand deaths for my boys. When I have to say goodbye to them and go to work or drop them off at their mom's, it feels a little bit like dying, anyway. I miss them fiercely, always. Time with them, in their youth, is a precious commodity, and it's slipping through my fingers.
