It’s referred to as organized sports. But I assure you that five and six year olds playing Tball is anything but that. I wonder when he’ll grow into his size and his coordination will kick in. At night when I tuck him in, he kisses me the best and sloppiest kiss ever and tells me “You are beautiful and gorgeous”. He wants to marry me, he says. I wonder who the young woman is who will steal his heart away from me. When things don’t go his way, and they often don’t, his temper flares, the vein on his necks pops out, his lower lip begins to quiver as he fights back the tears and then, he follows that up by screaming at the top of his lungs. I wonder when he will learn how to control his temper and allow his passion to help him pursue the things God has called him to. He runs around the neighborhood with nothing but shorts on during the carefree summer days. His olive-toned skin is a golden bronze from the rays of the sun and his hair gets whiter by the hour. I wonder if his hair will turn darker like his Daddy’s has and what he will look like as a grown man. I wonder who he will become.