Windy Twilley

Yarn keeps me from opening fire.


I have become my grandmother.

See those navy-and-white saddle oxfords? THOSE RIGHT THERE? I never thought I would be the kind of mother who would subject her child to navy-and-white saddle oxfords. But there you have them. And his hair, usually a mess of cowlicks and bedhead, has been glued in place by the power of the almighty Water and Comb. I remember pitying my brother at this age, because he was subjected to similar torture. I remember my grandmother's lectures on "training" one's hair, as if the bends could be straightned and the cowlick un-licked by sheer force of will. But when I got Tyler dressed on Easter morning, I did it blithely, cheerfully, willingly.

Doesn't he look adorable? I make myself sick.


Post a Comment

<< Home