Nicholas' favorite thing to do these days is to put on his father's shoes.
He digs through Jeremy's drawers first and gathers whatever important items he can find--a set of keys, a bill fold, a broken watch, a ball point pen. He takes these and jumps into Jeremy's shoes-- still wearing his own.
"Goodbye," he says to me carrying off his important, man things-- the broken watch dangling from his wrist. "Going work," he explains and shuffles toward the door.
I play it up, "Oooohhh, you're off to work now? OK, see you soon. Bye now. Love you!" He's pleased that I play along, but shuffles on without looking back... around the corner... and out of sight.
"Goodbye!' I holler, "Goodbye!" he repeats.
"Goodbye" I say again trying to keep the game going, but this time he is beyond hearing. He is gone.
Oh sure, it's all fun and games for now, but this boy (my baby) is practicing for life and I have a feeling I will be the last to shout "Goodbye" when he leaves home for real, too. And then I won't find him sleeping in a corner of the house, later, still wearing his father's shoes and clutching a watch that has-- long ago-- lost track of the passage of time.