Five

Today is my youngest son's birthday.

A near full-swing of the pendulum opposite his older brother, he is my little imp - petulant and moody, yet with a almost-knowing smile that belies his age and forgives the worst offense.

While my eldest will respect, mournfully at times, the boundaries we set, my little imp will push his shoulder at the gate, chafing and sore, until at last we are forced to shore up our defenses or else relent.

Frustration at being too young, too small, too slow or too restless often send thunderclouds across his face, darkening his eyes and contorting his sweet smile into a portent of the tempest to come. The squalls are brief, however, and the light of his disarming smile insinuates itself through the parting clouds.

He is my challenge.
My innocence.
My rage and triumph.
My joy.
My boundless love.

He is my son.