two boys, two perfect sons

I always thought I'd have a daughter. A little girl. As far back as I remember assuming I would one day have children, I just always thought I'd be a dad to a little girl. Two children later, both sons, I'm more than satisfied. A son to a father is perfection. It's what every man wants, seemingly. My two boys are close enough in age that they would likely and possibly always consider each other their best friend. Less than two and a half years separate my children. They're now eight and nearly six. Great ages, though I've always said that throughout their lives and assume will always see the beauty in every stage of life along the way.
They're interested in similar things. They have the typical big brother/little brother battles. They often want different things but they are inherently brothers. Each day is a joy. Each day brings similarities and differences. Each day with my boys is a gift. 

pride

My five year old son was showing me his new drawings. Mapped out like a comic strip. Several pages. He had a story to tell, likely a montage of Calvin & Hobbes and various cartoons complete with catchphrases I didn't know. The kid was so excited to share these little tales with his dad and I was so completely humbled and proud of him. Little stick drawings. Going square by square on the page I kept my arm around him, sitting there on the carpeted floor, his head alternately resting on my shoulder and bopping around with excitement. What a gift. That kid is a gift. A grace too pure for a father to even grasp.