Every now and then I take a photograph of the kiddo’s bedroom as a reminder of where he was at a moment in time. Of course, there are ten gazillion pictures of HIM on my hard drive but his room reflects his interests, his evolution, his current state of mind. The photo doesn’t show all the dirty laundry on the floor of his closet. It doesn’t show the look on the painter’s face when I said “stripes, please”. (We also went from a dark brick red color to this. I like to challenge painters. Remind me to tell you about my hot pink bathroom) It doesn’t show the tiny step ladder that gave way as I was drilling holes into studs to hang the curtain rods. It doesn’t show the many nights of bedtime stories, giggles, hugs, and Hot Wheels car competitions. It is a moment in (really cleaned up) time, late fall of last year. His tastes have changed, we’ve moved, but I will always love this room and this arc of time in his young sweet life.