Only where children gather is there any real chance of fun.

Sometimes my son will try to pull back the cobwebs in my brain with a childhood memory. He'll describe it in great length and include all sorts of detail but rarely will I remember it the way he wants me too. Mostly I remember him laughing all the time, being full of questions, excitement, and enthusiasm. I remember he was entertained by the silliest things like making parachutes with dental floss and plastic grocery bags or getting one of those toys from McDonalds. 

I remember him being afraid of the dark and sleeping on a pallet on the floor in my room, and now he wants to chase bad guys in the dark. I remember his big sister timing everything he did just to keep him busy. I remember he liked to help me cook and I helped him “invent” new recipes. I remember the day he learned Santa had the same hand-writing as me. I remember him being the fastest runner in his elementary school but having stomachaches because he didn’t want to go there.  I remember the day he graduated from high school and even he was proud. I remember he always wanted a go-cart and now, he has a motorcycle.

I don't remember the things he remembers because I love him so much my heart overflows and makes my memories blur together.  And, even though he's almost 20, I still bring him toys from McDonalds because I don't want to let go of the little boy I remember.