I allow myself to dream of what he will be like as an adult.
In my dream, Big E is a successful doctor curing the world of all that ills it. He's married to a nice, Jewish girl who thinks I'm the bee's knees and pops out a plethora of my beautiful, perfectly behaved grandchildren.
But this evening I caught a glimpse of the future Big E that was slightly unsettling.
We attended the monthly Tot Shabbat gathering at our synagogue. All of his school chums were also there, so Big E began the evening by running around for about 20 minutes nonstop.
His once pristine outfit, including striped button down and bow tie, was now busted. My kid is a sweater, so it appeared that he had taken a quick swim in the Holocaust Memorial fountain on one of his many laps around the building.
I had given him some water in an attempt to cool him down. He chugged it and then was just erratically walking around sweating, wearing a crooked bow tie, chatting up total strangers, and clutching an empty plastic cup.
So there you go. Big E. Frat boy. Age 21 (because my sweet boy would never participate in underage boozing).
The head of his school and his teacher both commented on it.
I'D LOVE TO SEE HIM IN ABOUT 15 YEARS!