Last night I was carrying Lucas upstairs to put on his striped pajamas and tuck him in, and as we walked up the stairs he burrowed his little head into my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my neck. And I walked up those steps thinking about how my dad had walked up them at bedtime, and his dad too. I thought about Lucas's great-great-grandpa nailing in those stairs, making them nice and sturdy, building them to last. I thought about all the men who have walked before my little boy, and how some day he'll be big and strong too. The other day Matt and I laughed looking at a stretched-out Lucas in a curved mirror, imagining him a few feet taller, a few years older. So much to look forward to, but for now, I'm glad he's small enough to cling to my shoulders.