Curled up, not asleep
When you get close enough to one of these things, you can see how much they look like some kind of alien cyborg with brightly colored armor. And they just look mean.
When you get close enough to one of these things, you can see how much they look like some kind of alien cyborg with brightly colored armor. And they just look mean.
This little dude was just hanging out on the knob of the rocking chair the other day.
These boys have a big time when they get together. And when they get together and stand next to each other, my mom says the phrase “been farming long?” about a dozen times. Here’s why.
My mom and I took Holden to a nice new park in Savannah for its grand opening weekend. We were there to meet up with T, a close friend I’ve had since third grade. I never get to see her and she’d never met Holden, so this reunion was long overdue. The reunion came and went too quickly and I had to get my grumpy, overheating 2.5-year-old back to the car. On the way out,…
It went well overall, I’d say. The first morning Ray and I dropped Holden off and there were no tears. Probably because he didn’t realize what was happening. His teacher said he had no potty accidents, he ate his lunch, and he napped for two hours. He was chatty, happy, cooperative and curious. Model student. The next morning I did the dropoff solo, and he cried. It was tough. He had another good day, though.…
My trip down memory lane via Flickr has been epic tonight.
We didn’t know it was the last one, of course.
It’s hard to believe it but this kiddo starts preschool Monday. We’ve been so fortunate to have been able to have Ray stay home with him until now, but as he picks up more legal gigs, doing the childcare shuffle is becoming increasingly difficult. So it’s a good time. Plus, Holden is probably bored out of his mind at home and could use some stimulation from new scenery, new (read: cooler) toys, new faces, new…
Holden and I are both covered in mosquito bites. I catch him sitting there with a puzzled look on his face, scratching the little red bumps on his legs, wondering why on earth such an annoying sensation would be happening and not going away. You got my blood, kid. Sorry. In addition to the ones on my legs and arms, I’ve got three of them on my back. My back! The small part, where the…
Another tragedy, a massacre orchestrated by a young man who felt entitled and spurned. Another young man who thought women owed him their affection and their bodies by virtue of his wanting them, and who, by ignoring him, earned violence. He was broken. I don’t know what broke him or when, but it was a snap loud enough to have repercussions far enough outside his sphere of existence that I am now writing about him,…
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