My blonde boys were there, in soccer shirts, at their lemonade stand in the bright green summer grass. As were the little leaguers, wearing winter coats in the chill of spring baseball. Dancers. Tutus and pirouettes and bicycles with baskets. Christmas trees and birthday parties. Swimmers. Backyards and baby pools.

These were among the images I saw, sorting through our family's pictures last week; selecting those to be included in the movie - the one that we'd play at the wedding.

There were hundreds - relics of an analog childhood - stored in shoe boxes - in orange and yellow Kodak envelopes. And they reminded me of presents.

For these were the same envelopes that I couldn't wait to open all those years ago - usually in the car driving home from Walgreens.

When the envelopes made it home, some pictures would be pulled from the stack, like the best cards from a deck; intended to be shared or mailed or taped to the refrigerator. Some were destined to become priceless, like the ones I found years later in dad's top dresser drawer, next to his watch and his rings.

Among them, many showed the child who we always referred to as the baby.

In one photo, taken on a Florida beach, the four children all sat in the sand, oldest to youngest. On one end, the baby had his small hand over his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun. On the other end, the eldest, our teenager, looked bored and embarrassed.

"Oh wow," said my friend, looking at that photo in the wedding movie, "I didn't realize there was such an age difference. He's such a baby in that picture."

Indeed, the baby. The one who surprised me the most. For he was the one I thought would be the most challenging - given that his older siblings were so in need of attention.

But he was a blessing, a tonic. He was the anti-teenager. Without him, I wonder if I would have survived the teenage years - the attitudes, the distance. Everything that comes with acne and braces and junior high.

It was the baby. His innocence and wonder. His unconditional love for each and every one of us. Wanting to be held. His love of my stories, my character voices. That he thought my Mickey Mouse Pancakes were still really cool.

And when I'd had enough of teen drama, I'd get down on one knee to be at his level. Or just sit down on the kitchen floor and be right there with him. He'd hug my neck or ask me a question. And I remember thinking, in those moments, "I need to remember this goodness. It's there in the others, their braces are just too tight."

And so, the baby and the eldest. The baby will be in his tuxedo this week. Standing taller than his older sister, the bride.

And, even though I no longer need to kneel down to see into his eyes - to get a hug around my neck - I still feel that way about him.

He laughs at my silly jokes. Shares his deepest thoughts with me. Laughs out loud in his room, chatting with his friends. And, this baby, he recognizes things about me that few people could ever understand. And he unabashedly offers these thoughtful kindnesses that no self-respecting college kid would normally tell his father.

That's why it is important to kneel down, sit down, be still. And appreciate the innocence of the baby in your lives.

Maybe those moments will last forever.

#sports

The baby, the teenagers and me