Hola, rojo, 'morning to you.
We've settled into some kind of routine here. The way the pressure's automatically off when we walk through the front door. Shoulders ease up and no matter how tired we are, he always gets this extra burst of energy when we get home. If it's late there's the obligatory chase around the second floor, through the hall and our bedrooms before he most mercifully agrees to take a bath. He has begun to sleep in his own room now but with a night light and the promise that my door will always be left open. We're reading Peter Pan since it was my favorite as a child and I really want him to appreciate it. I think I hate reading for children a little since they never pay as much attention as I'd like them to so the whole sleepiness thing works in my favor. I used to fantasize about when I had a child I'd raise them in this magical wonderland exactly the way I would have liked to be raised. We'd believe in faeries and mermaids and defeating the laws of gravity would be one of our simpler tasks. It's not exactly like that but we watch cartoons together and one day we're pirates and the next we're space heroes. He's interested in dinosaurs and the night sky and cars and what mommy does and where mommy goes. He's so much more perfect than anything I could dream up. Except he makes me be Wendy and I want to be Peter.