Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 1 of 2 - I have TWO 8-year-olds to buy for, so I’m going to split it up into two posts. Today will be the things we’re getting for Edward. I dislike saying “Gift id...
July 8, 2007
Do you know how many tries it took to capture even that crazy-looking picture of a smile? Many. It took many tries. I had to kiss him and make coochy-woochy noises, then quickly get out of the way, put the camera in front of his face, and hope the picture wouldn't be all blurry from not using the flash. Repeat and repeat and repeat, until the poor baby wouldn't smile anymore.
The little ingrate smiled first at Paul. Hey, no, don't take into consideration whose nipples were all cracked but nursed you anyway, taking a layer of enamel off her teeth from clenching so hard with each painful latch-on. Don't take into consideration who gets up with you at 3:30 in the morning when you want a little snack or a little company. No, no, I wouldn't want to influence you by reminding you who it was who gave up her body as a vessel for nine months, barfing and barfing in what had better turn out to be a genetic advantage. Heavens no! Neither will I present Exhibit A: stretch marks, or Exhibit B: saggy tum flap, or Exhibit C: hormones you could sharpen a knife on. No! Go ahead and smile first at the other one, that's fine with me.