Before he was 7 and before he could read … before he played soccer and before he went to Kindergarten … before he told jokes and before he knew his colors and shapes … before he danced to Cuban Pete … before all of that, he took my heart to places it had never known.
Together we have read books and colored pages. We have gone on long walking adventures and out to lunch and in to nap. We have played tennis and badminton and t-ball. We have painted and gardened and made home-made popsicles and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
We have laughed and giggled and cried together. I have wiped his tears and he has wiped away mine. He has patted me on my arm with a little hand when I needed it most. He has helped me through the days; without even knowing it. And I could not love him more.
He is 7 years old now.
He is Max.