He’s seven now, you know. I hold him as much as I can– I know these days are numbered.
I came downstairs this morning to find him on the couch under this blanket, reading books quietly to himself.
Actually reading, not just looking at the pictures.
This is new, the reading to self. I am so grateful for the world it will open up to him, his whole life long.
PS Can you spot the Louie-dog on his picnic table throne?