Little boy hands

This weekend, we divided and conquered.
I worked during the day, so on Saturday Dad was home with the boys. When I got home, he and Jax headed to Blue Springs for a basketball tournament with the HOYAS. Which left Cole and I to fend for ourselves for the evening. I really treasure the rare times I get with just one kid.
     First we got dressed up and went to a wedding, where Cole was an absolute delight. He sat on my lap during the wedding so he could see, and during the reception, he entertained everyone at our table with his talkativeness and general pleasant social demeanor. He had the person next to him (someone he had never met before) laughing and spoke to everyone like a little adult. I love that he has such a fun, happy personality. My mother always tells me that as a child, I never met a stranger. Cole is very like me in this regard (and very like his father in almost all others). He can make friends with anyone and wins them over quickly.
     After we left the reception, we decided to go for a walk/hike on the Missouri Western trails. So, after running home for a quick change, we headed out there. Cole wanted to hold my hand the entire time-be still, my heart. I will never tire of those sweet little fingers in my hand. They are not the chubby fingers of a baby or toddler, but they are most definitely not the long, slim fingers of a grown boy. They are perfectly sized to fit in my hand, as they were the day he was born, and as they still will be for as long into the future as I can fathom. Just as his arms will always be the perfect length to fit around my neck, and his little (and then not so little) body will always be the exact size that fits onto my lap.
     There are many things that I will and already do miss as my boys grow bigger, stronger, taller, but I hold onto the truth that no matter how big, how old, they will always be my little boys.