It was a morning, a cold winter’s morning, when I went to pull William from his bed. My sleepy and yummy smelling 20 month old. The newness still there, yet starting to be turned into an older kid. His baby face becoming a big boy face and his downy baby hair turning into the hair of an older child. His sleepy face smiles at me and his baby words come out. He is excited to be alive. Each day new. Each day an adventure. The wonderment of what is to come. Trains, cars and balls are the highlight of his life. The simple pleasures that God has blessed him with as his beginning years. Such a blessing to not understand the troubles of the world or the stress of the future. An ignorant bliss, yet, he doesn’t even know of his ignorance. I lay him on his big brother’s bed to tickle his belly and love him and he hugs me and wraps his chubby arms around me as much as he can. His little hands not even reaching halfway. I nuzzle his ear and then look into his sweet eyes, those blue eyes that won’t quit. Large and full of wonder. And I see myself in his eyes. A reflection, a distorted and contorted reflection. And I know that he sees me. He sees me how I am, but he doesn’t see my inadequacies or all my faults. He doesn’t see them and he doesn’t want to see them. And I imagine my reflection in his eyes. All my actions will be reflected in him. He will do the things I do. Speak as I speak. Act as I act. He will be a reflection of me, a distorted reflection, but still a reflection nonetheless. My work is to make the reflection the best it can be.