Last night, my great-nephew spent the night with me. He was all arms and legs and head butts and scratchy, long toenails, trying to stretch out. I managed not to be thrown onto the floor during the night, barely. After he went to sleep and was still and quiet, I took advantage of the rare opportunity to study his little face with his impossibly long eyelashes and unblemished skin. He’s three and I’m acutely aware that no matter how much fun he has with his Auntie Tonya so far, he will likely remember none of it. None of the tickle fights, kitchen dance parties, fully table set breakfasts or the cookies and ice cream I doted on him. I will never forget, of course, the unbridled joy he has brought into my life. I’ll be crying at his wedding, thinking about giving him a bath when he was too small to get in the tub by himself. Life flies by.