Throwback Thursday

He lines the cars up, one by one, until they stretch across the bleacher.  We make trip after trip down the bleachers and into the lobby and into the bathroom and to the concession stand. His legs are barely long enough to make it up the bleachers, and sometimes it is easier just to pick him up and pack him.

More cars, an endless line, and Dora and Diego figures and John Deere tractors.

He doesn't pay much attention to the game going on in front of him, because there is a race or a wreck or an adventure in the bleachers. There's someone to talk to, always someone to talk to.

We color and he laughs and his front tooth is chipped somehow.  His pudgy hands are stained with nacho cheese and his Sippy cup is full of Sprite.  He's not discovered the miracle of caffeinated drinks yet, and I am thankful.

He waves at his Daddy across the gym, and smiles at the girls who are so much like his sisters.

Tonight, he stands taller than me. He sits across the gym from me, but first, before he moves, he's hip to hip with me and I think of all the cars I've picked up in those bleachers, all the crayons I've stuffed back in the box and all the trips to the "session stand".

Tonight, as I sat in the gym at Owsley Co., I thought of that little boy that I love so good.  I remember him with his glasses on, surprised when he saw Daddy on the floor because he had never really been able to see him.  I remembered him running on the floor and me chasing him.  I remember...

and I'm so thankful that I've been blessed to be Caleb's Mama.