The little boy who wore these boots entered my life six months, one week, and one day ago. On that day he became my “Little Man.” That first night as I held him in my arms and fed him powdered donuts, I knew my life would never be the same. He didn’t wiggle his way into my heart, he came in and broke it wide open like a wild tornado rips apart everything in it’s path. And that is what I called him, my little tornado. Everything in his way was either hit, bit, thrown, kicked, or punched. Nothing was easy with Little Man. Eating a family meal became a thing of the past. At least one family member had to hold Little Man on their lap to even get him to sit down. Food was thrown, cups were tossed over, and milk was spit on the floor. Diaper changes were wrestling matches. Poop flew everywhere. From the moment that he woke up to the moment he fell asleep at night Little Man was a little tornado running through our home causing havoc, but I loved him! Injuries were frequent at our home in those days, busted lips from head-butts, bite marks that lasted weeks, and feelings were often hurt as Little Man struggled to figure out his new surroundings. He was a fighter! He fought our love, he fought our attempts to calm him down. But, we loved him. I don’t remember the day that he stopped being my little tornado, but one day I woke up and realized that he wasn’t anymore. I saw him quietly sitting at the counter in my kitchen one morning eating cereal with my 9 year old son and he had his arm around him, brothers sitting eating breakfast. It was either on or around that day that I realized that the little boy who wore those boots six months ago was no longer. He didn’t fight our love anymore, he embraced it and he gave it back. Biting was a thing of the past and I can’t tell you the last time he head-butted me when I was trying to calm him. He now runs to us to get hugs and kisses and enjoys sitting in our laps to read books. He eats at the table, sitting in his own big boy chair and he finishes all of his milk without spitting it (most of the time). As I put Little Man to bed each night we pray together. I pray he will come to know Jesus one day and that he will always feel loved. I pray for his safety and I pray for his future. My heart will always and forever have a place in it for my Little Man, the child that broke my heart wide open!