This was only just barely and not quite a year ago.
The tail end of summer dragged its weary path into fall, and that saw the start of a new year for E. Still chubby-cheeked and baby-toothed, still wearing the bamboo boxer shorts his mama bought for him when he was two -- and won't she be in trouble for telling -- he traded his preschool pack for a big-kid's back-pack, a new haircut, and a whole new school.
He carried the sign that was shipped from New York and penned by his daddy's mommy, in likely the same rounded-letters she used for his sign so long ago now it would seem -- and posed for this photo on his First Big Day:
At home, he was the guest of honour at the Kindergarten-is-going-to-be-a-piece-of-cake party. And there was cake, and in many different pieces, but the one requested by E was the fire-breathing scorpion cake, which his mama was happy to make -- probably because it reminded her that he was still such a little guy, still just her own bug-loving boy. 
But not for long, or so they say. One baby step for E is a big step for his mama, and he keeps going, keeps climbing and reaching and before any of us can say look out he'll be all grown. But she's heard this one before: it goes by so fast. And maybe that's true. But for this breath, and the next, he will be just as he is. Just right.
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