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Wednesday, July 22, 2009


Today I made you dress yourself
like I've always wanted you to,
and it nearly broke my heart.
You look less like a child every day
(even when we get you confused
and make you forget if you're ten
or thirteen).
Tomorrow, you promised to go with me
on a picnic. It's my hope
that you'll look less like vampire.
I wonder, sometimes,
what your first girlfriend will be like,
and if she'll know more about you
than I do. Right now,
you are simply asleep,
so I can stop worrying.

I made him wear shorts, and when my mother saw him she was amazed that he had hair on his legs. "When did that happen?" she exclaimed. It's common belief that he'll never get past puberty, and we seem astonished to be proven wrong.

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