, , , ,


And so it begins.

“Who’s that girl with the yellow hair?” asked my son. 

I noticed the twinkle in his eye and the bashful grin, and I thought, “What about me? What about me!”

I didn’t sign up for this.

If this is an inkling of what’s to come, then I want to send him back.

I’m not ready. So not ready. I’ll never be ready.