|Is this for me?|
|And maybe these?|
You can walk. CAN walk, but you choose not to. You prefer to scootch around, but yet you do like to climb the stairs, crawl over to the bookcase and pull off every single David Gemmell paperback book (all 20 of them) and throw them on the floor. For a while you only grabbed the Gemmell books, but now you've moved on to T.S. Eliot and Faulkner. Perhaps you will eventually understand The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, something I never will.
For Christmas you got two toys from Santa. A soccer ball and a stacking puzzle toy. Plus a shitheap of fancy new clothes from your Grandmas, so mommy will make an extra effort to dress you up and not leave you in your pajamas all day long like some Dickensian foundling.
Even though you won't remember this Christmas, I certainly will. And maybe someday, if there is still an Internet and we all aren't living back in caves in some dystopian future, you can read all about this here.
Merry Christmas, little Sena!
I love you.