It's difficult to gauge just how old she is; from across the coffee shop, she looks quite middle-aged. My mum's eye knows that the baby she is cradling hasn't been here long.
I'm delivering my cup and plate to the grey wash bin at the back, and so I pause at her table:
"Now that person is brand-new!"
She looks up at me and smiles and the years fall away from her face.
"He's two weeks."
"He's gorgeous; congratulations!"
She resumes her rapt perusal of his sleeping face.
I remember that.
Today, the Resident Fan Boy and I are attending yet another parents/teachers conference concerning younger daughter's plans for next year. Wish us luck.
It's A Tough Job But Someone's Gotta Blow It
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*WARNING:** In-your-end-o jokes ahead. Hide the kids!*
*****
*John:* "Hey, we had a few complaints about that baby shower cake, so let's
steer clear of ...
19 hours ago

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