So this morning, after he hit the milk bottle for a few minutes, I held my newborn son up towards the ceiling in his nursery so he could smile and giggle his way through our morning ritual: I inhaled a deep breath and blew out towards his mobile that includes four colorful airplanes.
When I blow, they go. He watches them with innocent amazement. His face lights up.
And I always think, it was just a few years ago when we all looked upwards and felt the same way about planes flying above our heads.
Those times, except for the newborns, are long gone and have been for five years today.