Some stories I jotted down over the last few months... wish I'd written down more.
"You'll always be my little boy, even when you're a big tall man." He nods.
Reading a book out loud in the car -- (Homework! For a 6 year old!) We all get the giggles over the name "Mr. Bumbleticker." Anya tries valiantly to restart several times but it's just not possible. David imagines penning a note: "Dear Mrs. Ritchie, we're very sorry but Anya was not able to complete her work due to a case of the giggles."
After dinner, they stretch out on the bed and I poke their tummies, pretending to trace all the food they've eaten. "Here's the pasta -- here's the chicken -- here's the broccoli -- oh, there's some space here for a treat!"
"Why does everyone keep saying my hair is beautiful?" Anya asks, perplexed and probably a little over it. (In case you have not met her, and can't see it in the photos, her hair is a lustrous blend of auburn, with blond and red strands mixed in. It's the kind of hair one would pay hundreds of dollars to achieve in a salon.) I don't know what to say but, "Because it is, sweetie."
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