Fluff Head

It doesn't seem like very long ago that my biggest boy was my baby boy. One of my fondest memories as a new mom was realizing how much fun we'd have during bath time. He laughed at every little splash he made, and afterward I'd rub his baby head with a towel making his hair stand up straight while he flashed me a big, gummy smile.

Tonight, we visited his future high school for a presentation about sports. Practice must have just let out because throngs of high school students, bright-eyed young adults with backpacks and sports equipment strapped to their bodies, flooded out of the doors towards their cars (their cars?!) to go home for the day. It's an impressive building, new construction within the last few years, and the walls and floor gleamed in a way that our quaint middle school does not. It's hard to believe that my son will be walking the halls of this school, one of those young adults, next year.

These days our rising freshman lends a hand with bathing our littlest boy, thirteen years younger, and passes me the towel to make the baby's head go all fuzzy like his once was. There's no place like home.