"In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold"

—Tennyson

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Last night I lay beside Isaiah as I tried to get him to go to sleep. I turned on his sound machine to the white noise of whirring crickets and then we played a pretend game. Are those real crickets? Let's pretend they are. Okay. We're walking along the stream. Let's catch some crickets in a jar. Oh, here, put them in. I've put on the lid. Pick a few blades of grass for them. Oh, look at the water. Let's go fishing. I caught a fish! Hooray! Put it in the cooler. I caught another fish! Wow, you're a great fisherman. Let's take them home and show Daddy.

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