It must have been a month ago or so; we were standing up singing at church and Ivan was standing on the pew next to me with his arm around my shoulders and I had the oddest sensation of "flash forward". It was almost as if my brain stopped because it couldn't handle the thought of my little boy (okay, so he's never actually been that little...he started out at 9lbs 10oz) growing up. But I stood there thinking, "Oh please Sir Ivan, please put your arms around me like this when you actually get this tall; and please let me call you Sir Ivan then too." He's growing up. He's 4 1/4 years old and only an inch shorter than his older by a year and a half sister. He knows all his letters and letter sounds and probably could read if he wanted to.
Today he wanted to be grown up. He wanted to be like his daddy. I don't mind that so much.
But today he tried to shave like his daddy.
He grabbed the razor off the bathroom counter and put it to his naked little chin leaving two parallel tiny slits in it's wake.
I gently sponged off the blood with a wet towel and promised him that when he's older his daddy will teach him how to shave.
After I took his picture that is: