oh son of my womb, oh son of my vows. whither the temper tantrums?
I'm blaming the molars that are coming in, dear boy. I know that pain makes me cranky too, though I have, for the most part, gotten past the point where I squat down and scream, or kick my feet and scream, or dance a little jig and scream, when I'm in pain and things don't quite go my way.
Dear son, handsomest and best of boys, light of my eyes: may you too get past that point. Soon. Soon, soon, soon.
love,
Mom
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