I have to store the memory of my son's sense of humor at this age. I don't want to forget when he's thirteen and rolling his eyes at my every word that he used to laugh when I blew on his hair or that when I just said "ha!" to him, he would collapse into giggles. I am really enjoying how easily amused he is, and I fear it won't last too long.
I am so grateful to have such wonderful friends. Two weeks to the day after I started to lose my baby, I got a package in the mail: a framed copy of the poem I posted here, along with a necklace with the baby's birthstone and a tag with the initial R. (I decided to name the baby Rory--it was too early to tell if we were having a boy or girl, so it's easiest to pick a name that would work either way.) It's just perfect. I discovered as I was lying down to go to sleep last night that the tag collides with the birthstone to make a tinkling, bell-like sound that reminds me of Zuzu's rhyme, "every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." So the tinkly sound will remind me of my little angel.
Terror suspect planned
to build homemade bombs and hit
New York 9/11.
paramedic, lawyer tried
on extortion charge.
compiles the one hundred worst
movies of decade.