Yesterday Bridger got to hang out with his Uncle Mike for a little bit in the morning. They watched 'The Best of Michael Jordan'. Bridger was a pretty quick study, particularly in the fancy footwork before the throw.
There is no baby left in my baby. He's lanky, a little boy. Sweet and smiley and mischievous. I look at him and hear Puck, from Midsummer Night's Dream. But still snugly, and cuddly, sometimes. He starts preschool on his birthday, next week. Little by little we let them go. Knowing it's what must be done, it still makes for a wistful mother waving as they walk away.