Does our heart not melt at the sight of a sleeping child? Do we not remember with clarity the smell of their freshness, the soft whisper of their breathing, and the way they fold into us when we reach for them?

Jenny posted this picture of Ian, asleep after a morning of playing at the park. It touched me, as I recalled his mother in much this same repose. "Ah, time doth stop for no man." Sleep well, sweet prince.