(Snap, crackle, pop into your New Year! Gong Xi Fa Tsai! Whether or not you mess with the horns, may the year of the Ram bring you good fortune.)
One of the things Max and I used to do to amuse each other was draw. As a preschooler, Max would request a bus, a truck, a pigeon. Whatever he asked for I’d bang it out with a crayon. Sometimes we’d collaborate.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
(Mama will be seeing red)
1) Max’s hair is bugging the CRAP out of me. He likes it long. We got the bangs (can you say bangs in relation to a guy) cut recently, but it has a helmet quality to it, and because it was
(Max wants me to state very clearly that he would never do something like this… He does however refuse to wear his coat half the winter.)
Forget about children. Adults are beastlier, having gained independence from parental control, the right to inebriate ourselves with all kinds of drugs, the American privilege of adding lethal weapons to our toy collections, and a whole bunch of advantages that
Ten-year-old Max has been hankering for a kitten. He says my place is lonely with just the two of us. I keep considering it. I do like cats. Max has a cat already at his other apartment with his dad. Her name