There are many ways in which I'm blessed to have a son, but perhaps the most profound is learning the exact age that a guy begins to entertain himself by dancing around the house in his underwear: 2 years, 7 months and 3 days. This afternoon, Catcher amused me with his own interpretations of itsy-bitsy spider, twinkle twinkle little star and the alphabet song while tapping his foot and singing into a drumstick (which, incidentally, he calls a baseball bat) in front of the fireplace. I know he'll hate me for this some day, but I couldn't let a moment like this go by uncaptured:
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