When I think of "Skipper," I think of either Barbie's cousin (sister?) or some preppy pedigreed twenty-something ne'er-do-well. I'm not thinking of either in this case.
Skipper, n. -- one who skips
My sweet son Kyle exudes joy and energy. That exuberance can sometimes be a bit much for a parent or teacher to take. Lately, that glee has worked its way from his head and heart all the way down to his feet.
He skips everywhere -- across the living room to the stairs, from the parking lot into church, from one store to the other at the mall.
Skipping is the epitome of happiness. I don't know if he knows that, and I'm not even quite sure what he's so happy about, but I have to document this for posterity so that in 5 years when he's a quiet, sullen, withdrawn adolescent I'll be able to remember that it hasn't always been that way (and probably won't always be).