I received a letter from my son yesterday. In the mail. On the back of the envelope, he requested that I not open said letter until I meet him (which, on another note, I am beginning to think will NEVER HAPPEN). So there it sits, this envelope with my name on it, postmarked from Savannah.
It's strange and very, very enticing. I can't wait to read what's on his mind. Clearly I have a very mentally and physically advanced son, to be mailing out cards before he even masters the whole 'breathing oxygen' thing. Perhaps all this ice cream I've been eating throughout the pregnancy has done something magical.
New campaign for Dairy Queen: "Try the Blizzard! It'll make your fetus smart as a whip!"
1 comment:
Who knew that the stork does his stopovers in Savannah? Maybe he got held up at Wet Willie's?
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