October 2014
I was reminded of a story about my own beloved boy this week that made me cognizant that unrecorded history fades into oblivion, or dies with the last person that held the memory. If I don’t keep entering blog entries now and again, I will lose some precious tales!
Trey earlier this year had a little epiphany in regards to his personal anatomy. He emerged from bathtime, exclaiming in excitement to Ana, “There’s a hole back there!”
It was confirmed to him that there was indeed such a hole for everyone, but he felt obliged to educated her on all that he had learned. “I stuck my finger in there. It doesn’t smell very good!”
Drop the mic. Or the jaw.
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