He’s not underfed or overfed. He’s just being fed.
He’s not underfed or overfed. He’s just being fed.
He’s outgrowing my friggin’ shirts.
Tell that story to a room full of people, get sympathetic stares.
“My child, it’s not about Elmo. It never was.”
He visually looks 13, but that means nothing around here.
It’s the most meaningful conversation of my life.
What I’m saying is that I’m proud of him.
There are phantom limps that disappear within an hour.
My son is present. He’s not “locked away” or left to float alone
Constant feet like a Nickelodeon sitcom from the ’90s.
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