The wee-est of the three is running and climbing, throwing and drawing, listening and watching. I am living life not by days, or hours, or even minutes, but by seconds — the time it takes for a wee fellow to go from the ground to the table top with hand outstretched ready to grab a hot light bulb, or the time it takes to climb up the stairs and contemplate a free fall tumble. But the wee-est is also a listener, and if I am a second ahead of him, I can give him the freedom of trying, utter a quick stop at the brink of disaster, and he stops. Just like that. An adventurous spirit and a trusting heart. He’s a quiet little miracle. A little bundle of contentment. A child of the Earth.