That boy in the blue sweater is a girl
Out at breakfast the other day with the daughter, the beloved, and Pops. After an enjoyable meal during which we all agreed with each other about the kidling’s charming precociousness (surprise, surprise!), Pops smiles conspiratorily, gestures with a tip of his head to a neighboring table, leans into me and
Dancing, addendum
In which the geriatric, long-suffering family dog serves as maypole. (See previous post for accompanying text.)