How often have I caught myself saying “he’s just so much sometimes” when referring to the antics of the youngest of our three boys. I catch myself because I know that I’m actually truly grateful for everything this little guy is, but at the same time it’s hard to explain just how bold, confident and outgoing this child is at just three years old. Window locks, screens, fences, and even church nursery gates couldn’t keep this little guy contained. It can take copious amounts of caffeine to keep up with those little legs that seem to always want to run from me, and they get faster and faster as time goes by.

Still, I knew my language needed to change, and then one day as I was sitting there looking into his eyes, exasperated by his latest escapade, I looked at him and said, “I wish I were more like you.”

So, here’s to my little Logan. The one who keeps me on my toes, stretches me to new limits, and the one I hope to spend my life learning from. I thank God for you.

You run away and I run to keep up.

You know where you’re going, and you never look back.

You never second-guess your steps, so you are always two steps ahead of me.

Your eyes question if something is possible, and your hands make it so.

Not a moment of your day is wasted, and that keeps mine full.

You know how to rest, and you know how to live.

You choose to laugh and grin in the moments I would choose to cry and give in.

You like to kiss my cheek when you know you’ve pushed the limit.

And hold my face between your little hands and smile when you want my attention.

You stop at every park bench and pat the seat for me to sit by you.

You make me slow down, and you make me run.

You are never in a hurry, but you are always on the move

I love you, my sweet Logan.

And I hope to be more like you.