if i don't ... 'what?' ... you ask .....
write.
if i don't i'll feel it, it festers, like a sore that needs cleaning out.
i used to keep a journal, or - in those days we called it - a diary. i suppose diary is indicative of a young girl or pre-teen, which i am neither.
i used to keep a journal, or - in those days we called it - a diary. i suppose diary is indicative of a young girl or pre-teen, which i am neither.
no matter.
clayton has taken to not having his early afternoon naps. he sits in his high chair stuffing his mouth full of food until his little belly bulges with it's contents. then listlessly eyes the tv, some cartoon of canadian decent, yawning and rubbing his eyes, so i pick him up and cradle him to his crib, lay him down and close the door.
he's quite just long enough for me to feel the smallest twinge of relief when he begins his loud and obnoxious yelping and chattering.
he does this for the duration of 'nap time', one and a half hours or so, or until i free him.
no rest for the wicked, is that the phrase?
