Walking around the neighborhood at twilight, with the little one beside me acting out his favorite parts from "Peter Pan," complete with dagger and stopping for pixie dust.
His tiny hand (not really, anymore) instinctively grasping for mine when we reach the corner before crossing the streets, and then releasing when we get to the other curb.
His strong little legs, all skinny and lean, pumping and jumping and carrying him in leaps and bounds down the sidewalk.
Him leaning his sweaty head against me when we sit on the bench on the front porch, being still, for just a second, before he runs off again.
My baby boy.
No running today -- today was a day for putt-putt with the boys, and reading, and naps, and a walk around the block.