Dear Bryce,
Here are ten things I love about you, and I’ve confined myself to the comings and goings of our car rides:
- The sound of your voice when we hear, “Oh, oh, oh, it’s the Tom Joyner Morning Show.”
- The habit of your asking for, expecting, and eating yogurt, which mommy started, I might add.
- Your instructions to “Go,” and your patience when I explain red lights and stopped cars.
- The way you say, “My daddy,” as to remind me that you are mine and I’m yours.
- Your periodic requests to go over there, when there is always a park in that direction.
- The leap in your voice every time you scream, “Fire truck,” or “Police car,” or “Ambulance.”
- Each expression from your mother because so many of less pleasant ones come from me.
- The way you yell “Water Fountain!” when we drive by Buckingham.
- The time it takes you to recover when we drop your mom off at class.
- The way you’ve made me love leaving the car, slowing down, and walking in the rain.
So much for looking discretion at work. I’m a crying mess over here.
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So much for making sense while I’m crying and typing. I meant to say, “so much for discretion at work!”
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Tell them I said you can cry at work if you want.
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