back to his other half

I’m in for it this week. My son wakes up this morning sick and cranky. Laying on the floor, crying, complaining. Ralph asks, “Did you have any dreams?” “Yes!” Nels belts out, wallowing on the couch. Ralph persists gently: “What did you dream about?” “Butterflies!” my son yells angrily. The meanest, tiniest, most pissy butterflies ever, apparently.

Ten minutes after Ralph leaves, after Nels has complained and asked for milk and then no milk then “hold you” etc – he finally sobs, “I’m going to go find Sophie.” Which is where he is ten minutes later when I finish making the kids’ breakfast (scrambled eggs and toast made from Blue Heron Bakery’s black olive blue cheese bread. P.S. best toast ever.) – happily and quietly spooning Sophie in my bed as she drowses.

Comments are closed.