Lesbian Dad

Wee dialog with the boychild

Scene: the rocking chair in the kids’ room. I’ve got my not quite two-and-a-half year-old son cuddled up on my lap, and he’s sucking my pinkie as I sing lullabies to him.  It’s a nightly ritual I predict I will be loathe to give up, and I try not to think of

I could eat him up with a spoon

Just a split-second in the bath, in between bouts of his being fairly unhappy about the shampoo. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: this boy makes me crazy with love for him. The must bite a chunk out of him while making growly animal sounds kind of love.

Witless Wednesday

I got so tired of seeing t-shirts that proclaimed, from the standpoint of the kid, that the kid believed something (cool, or politically in line with the parents, etc.) — even stuff that I believed in! hell, I’ve stuck my kid in ’em! — that I went out and made

back up that-away
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