Saturday, November 30, 2013


The other night, Coen, who is almost two, was in his sleeper pajamas with his blonde hair combed to the side, and with his sweet little cheeks and big blue eyes, I was startled at his resemblance to Michael Darling from Disney's Peter Pan.

Imagine my delight when Coen crawled into Andrew's lap and said, "Up-away!" Andrew swung him into his arms and tossed him in the air and said, "Up, up, and away!" Overcome by giggles, Coen again said, "Up-away!" and Andrew complied a few more times.

Then Coen patted Andrew on the shoulder and pointed to the ceiling and said, "Fly!" By then Andrew was exhausted, so he said no, they would fly tomorrow. But Coen implored more and insisted, "Fly! Daddy, fly!"

My little Peter-Pan heart couldn't handle it. I wanted to sprinkle that kid with pixie dust and tell him to think lovely, wonderful thoughts. But I could tell by the expression in his eyes that he was thinking happy thoughts, and he has something better than pixie dust: he has a daddy who loves him enough to scoop him up and hold him securely high over his head and help him fly, and then hold him close as they laugh together.

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