"And a sword will pierce your own soul also."

I looked at him this morning, while Little Red was in my lap stealing my breakfast, and he had his pajama pants pulled up over his knees, and his red socks pulled up to his knees, and he was stacking a little tractor on a big tractor, rolling it across the floor, paying no attention to my watchful eye. 

It struck me:  he will soon be too old, too old.  I know every stage has its own pleasures, to quote my mother, but:  sitting where I am today, I don't want to lose that little boy.