Jack

"Watch out," Jack calls, "there's a berry strong person coming up the stairs."

Goggles on, baby bottle and hack saw in tow, he pokes his head in the kitchen, "We're playing DOCTOR." He raises both eyebrows, "I'm the DOCTOR." Still for only a moment, he rounds the corner off to work. No doubt Jane or Lulie awaits his miracle cure.

Between peanut butter sandwiches, floors to sweep, dishes and laundry and piles of story books, the day lilts by. Jack asks if we can call the new baby Babe-the-Blue-Ox. He offers to lend Lulie his toothbrush.

When I tuck him into bed I lean down eye to eye with this boy. He brushes stray hairs from my face, presses my cheeks between small hands. I watch those blue eyes. "Who are you gonna be someday, Jack?"

He smooths my hair, pauses. "I'm gonna be like Daddy someday."

Of course, Daddy. I see it there guileless and unflappable.

I remember how Janie called out this morning, "Look, I'm dressed," and raised both shoulders. And as I stare now at my boy I still hear his remark, "Mmm. You're pretty, Jane."

Yes, like Daddy.