Today I had one of those parental moments that is so luminous and perfect that it gets you through many moments of sippy cups incessantly dropped from the high chair and poops that overflow the bounds of the diaper.

It was so simple, really. Today was the first day in months with highs in the 60s. I picked up C from day care and we drove home with the windows open. We pulled into the garage and promptly went out to the front yard. We did not even go inside first.

Kids with shoes are no longer babies. This is what I realized as I watched C stumbling along, crouching down like some wizened old lady gardener, examining the bushes that line our front walkway, guffawing at absolutely nothing and everything. It was half a breath before sunset, and the light had that pale rosy quality that breaks your heart with gladness. Who is this human being with shoes all at once, and where is the newborn who was forever losing her socks?