In Twenty Years

Our baby son was playing with his new toy, taking out all the wooden balls from the little wooden cradle and admiring their colors. My wife and I left him on the rug and went over to the kitchen counter to eat our breakfast. As we were eating, we both noticed that it had gotten very quiet. My wife said, "Where's the baby?"
I hurried over to the living room area and said, "He's behind the piano, playing with his balls."
Pause a beat.
"Let's hope we're not still saying that about him in twenty years."