He shrugs, and I see the fabric of his pajama shirt strain at his shoulders. It’s also pulled taut across his middle, but I know he’ll grow into his body, as he’s built just like his father. Someday he’ll be six feet two like Daniel, broad of shoulder and hopefully confident, too. Hopefully.

“Mom?”

“What, baby?”

His head ducks as he sorts another couple of cards, stacking some, spreading others in tidy piles before him. “Nicole called me fatso at school today.” His size 16 shoulders hunch, my baby who wears size 16 shirts and 16 pants. My baby with the heart of gold. He looks up at me now, a hint of tears in his gray green eyes. “Am I fat?”

I love this boy more than life itself. “No, honey.”

“But Nicole said—”

“She’s wrong. You’re not fat. You’re big right now, husky big, but it’s how your body grows.”

His fist reaches up to knock tears from the corners of his eyes. “Do girls like husky boys?”

My heart catches at moments like these, it just falters and flutters, and I feel ripples of pain everywhere. Growing up is so hard. I’d never want to be a child again. “Husky girls do, William.”

William’s head rears back and his eyes blaze and he’s the spitting image of Daniel. Furious, fiery, handsome. “Mom!”

I wink. “I’m teasing. Of course girls like husky guys, husky guys have lots of muscles.”

“But pretty girls?”

“William, don’t worry about the girls. You’re almost ten and too young to get married right now, but when it’s time, you’ll have all the girls you could ever want.”

The flush in his cheeks deepen. “Really?”

And looking at him, cross-legged with his box of cards amid his cleats and flip-flops, I know he’ll grow up and go. Grow up and become a man with a home of his own, and in the end all I have are these years, precious and few.

Right now I try to remember it all, if such a thing is possible. I try to remember the way his jammies stretch and strain, how his hand clutches the hundred cards and the lone dirty, mud-crusted cleat next to his bare foot.

He’s gorgeous because he’s mine, but he won’t be mine for long. Our children become part of the world so fast, and it’s our job to prepare them, transition them, our job to love them and gracefully step back and let them go….

“I love you, William Gerald Laurens.”

He uses his stack of cards to push the hair back from his brow. “I love you, Mom.”