My best friend had a baby last October (You may remember the birth story). I happen to love him like a nephew (probably because I love her like a sister.) On Monday we took some portraits; to preserve the memory of his arm fat. His two teeth. His big eyes and drooling mouth. To capture this moment in time. Because babies — they grow up.

But Holden…before you get too big to sit in my lap. Too big to let momma give you a kiss in front of school. Too big to think your father is a superhero, I give you this:

You’re six months old now. You’ve got two teeth, you love Sophie the Giraffe, you are desperate for pizza, and you’re loved beyond measure. As you grow up, I wish for you many things. Friends. A carefree childhood. Enough tantrums to teach your parents patience, but enough discipline to keep you from being spoiled. I wish you scraped knees and training wheels. Pet frogs and best-friend dogs. But most of all,  I wish for you your momma’s immense heart, and her unending kindness. Your daddy’s dry humor and his sense of style. May he also teach-by watching the simple  way he absolutely, wholly, and without question loves your momma-what it means to truly love a woman without losing yourself. But may you get lost in love at least once.

My dear, sweet boy. May you not grow up too fast.
But when you do,
may you stay
forever young.