7:45 a.m. Jessie is snuggled down in a burrow of blankets with just her eyes and nose peeking above the sheet. I approach the bed:
J: Don't even.
Me: Don't even what?
J: Don't even think about it.
Me: Think about what?
J: Pulling all the covers off me.
I, of course, do, and there is much giggling and shrieking as I carry her into the bathroom to start getting ready for school.
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A life lived with hair on fire.
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1 comment:
Thus, you raise the child. Or are raised by her...
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