...from my 6 year old are the best. They were the best from his brother when he was 6 too. Still so much kid and yet still so baby. (He'd hate it if he knew I said that.)
Nothing can make me melancholy like the thought that before long those kisses will give way to soccer cleats and grass stains, algebra and geography, cell phones and curfews.
And eventually empty bedrooms.
And someday (I hope), eventually, those tender kisses will reappear in my babies babies.
Life marches on.
Nothing can make me melancholy like the thought that before long those kisses will give way to soccer cleats and grass stains, algebra and geography, cell phones and curfews.
And eventually empty bedrooms.
And someday (I hope), eventually, those tender kisses will reappear in my babies babies.
Life marches on.
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