"You're my little guy," I often say to le Petit. "You're not as little a little guy as you used to be. Now you're big. Or bigger. But even when you're big and taller than Mommy you'll still be my little guy."
He says nothing but smiles at the attention, and I wonder just when the day will come that he shudders at hearing my favorite of his nicknames.
"You're my little guy," I told him today, "But I love you this big!" and I spread my arms as wide apart as I can.