The face is impish. He's six, and definitely up to something. What will it be? I search his face for clues.... does he have a bug behind his back? Does he have a secret? Will he come up and burp or fart at me? No. He has a gift. The most precious of gifts, an intangible yet priceless offering. The kind that I know won't last for much longer. He'll soon be too cool- too self conscious- to offer this kind of gift. As it becomes clear what it is, I accept it eagerly. Greedily.
HEY MOM! BETCHA CAN'T KISS ME!!!!
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
I am a juggler. I am a mother, wife, realtor, maid, taxi driver, gardener, friend... I may not always throw the balls up straight, may not always juggle well, but the goal is to keep all of the balls in the air.
No comments:
Post a Comment