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.
Haiku News
Terror suspect planned
to build homemade bombs and hit
New York 9/11.
Possible jerkwads:
paramedic, lawyer tried
on extortion charge.
Rotten Tomatoes
compiles the one hundred worst
movies of decade.
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