There is a moment when I think I might cry. Or yell. Or just put my head down on the desk and pound it a couple of times. But then I happen to look at my youngest son, perched in my big reading chair, from just the right angle and I notice how much taller he's suddenly gotten, how his adorably chubby baby legs are now thinning out into the shape of a lanky little boy. How is it that the last 30 minutes have seemed an eternity when the rest of his life has flown by so very, very quickly?