I don’t know if my nephew, Little Man, will ever be a cowboy, but I know I am already making plans to buy him a pony.
I don’t know if he will ever sing and play guitar on stage under concert lights or around a campfire late at night, but I know I have some songs in me for him.
And I don’t know if he will ever long to climb mountains or race fast cars or jump out of airplanes or ride bucking bulls or find wild adventure in that little heart of his, but I know the world is waiting to see what he can do.
And I don’t know if I will ever have a child of my own, with my toes and ears and eyes, but I know right now his eyes see me and I will be watching him always.
No, I don’t know what the world has in store for those chubby cheeks, tiny feet and wide, drooly smile, but I am certain of some things:
I am certain his hands won’t always be this small, reaching out to tug my hair and discover his world—a world that won’t always be this new…
and I know I will always be there to hold them.
Oh, and I am sure he won’t always fall asleep in my arms,
but I know my arms will always be open.
And it is most definate that he won’t forever fit naked in my kitchen sink, trying to capture the water that streams out of the faucet…
and I know I will always be amazed at how much he’s grown.