Wednesday, June 7, 2006

Breaking point

Baby J is at the front door kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs. I have dinner on the table and he is covered in whatever he has been playing with outside. Most likely a mixture of bubbles and dirt. All he wants to do is play with his friend that is still outside. The high-pitched squealing gets louder and louder. The tears stream down his bright red face. He tries to bang on the door as if it will magically open with his fists. Then he uses his feet. Somehow he gets a few words that sound like “play” “outside” “Allison”. We are not quite sure, but that’s the best we can do.

R is watching this display of emotion with me for many minutes. He looks at me square in the eye and says, “Thank God I get to go back to work tomorrow!”

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