It’s 4:16 a.m. Do you know where your four year old is? I know where mine is: IN MY BED. As is his wont, he clambered in and conked out. I’m awake, bleary and bloggy.
Here Clif sits, on the last day of soccer this season, in our Harris-Teeter grocery store giveaway chair. Oh, how many afternoons have I sat in this chair, watching Clif pretend he is a Transformer while his teammates scurry about playing soccer. Oh, how I have wondered whether athletic prowess is genetic. Oh, how very much knitting has taken place in this chair.
I’m going back to bed. Honestly.