Breathing is difficult today. In the waiting room we sit, my sick four-year-old and I. For a w.hole nineteen minutes now the paper-white silence has been punctuated by the cold of the man a.cross from us.
Category: Original Fiction
We are in the South of France with our babies. Our babies cannot talk but find alternative ways to disrupt us.
I have always tried to include three-year-old Gus in the decision-making. For example, we have discussed at length the pros and cons of wearing a snowsuit to bed.
Pepper, it’s you and me now. Haven’t we been happy long as we stayed close?
After a few weeks the VW bug I drove, which I parked at night out by the gravel road a third of a mile from my house in the woods, was burgled.
Your little one needs an established routine. Sufficient carbohydrates, calcium, iron. Limited sugar. Sufficient sleep: eleven to thirteen hours a night. Limited screen time….
One morning, a woman gave birth to a monster. The monster had red skin and howled all day and all night. The woman sobbed when she held the monster….
Autism is you’ve got to say it louder. No, a little quieter. Wait, you have to look at her honey because she didn’t hear . . .
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