May 8, 2015
Twice a week I'd do laundry and leave you in your stroller with a teether or a rattle, and you'd be fine, watching me from the back door. Your eyes would follow me as I walk from the washing machine to the hamper to the clotheslines and, I don't know how, but you'd manage to entertain yourself for half an hour, you wouldn't cry or demand for anything. You'd wait for me to finish whatever I was doing until we can come inside and play again. Sounds boring yeah? But the boring times were my favorite times with you, B.