Our son collapsed on the curb of the parking lot with troubled flip flops. He wasn’t shuffling another step–not without sobbing.
As we back-tracked to where he sat, I glanced at my husband. “You want to carry him?”
In response, my husband extended his arms to our son who crawled limply into his lap and laid his head on his daddy’s shoulder.
We’d walked some fifty feet when our son looked up. “Dad,” he asked. “How’d you get to be so big?”
And my 135 lb husband smiled and said simply, “one day at a time, son. One day at a time.”