This, right here, is what happens when love for your daughter overwhelms your common sense.
Last month, Olive turned six years old.
I woke up in the soft grey of early morning and made waffles in our quiet kitchen, my feet cold against the stone tiles.
As I did, I thought about each of the past six years, right back to the beginning. Those months where I carried her inside of me; when I became so used to her tumbling, kicking, curious presence that my belly felt oddly still and empty after.
We just came back from our annual family summer vacation (AKA The Rumpus) and while there’s a lot that could be said, I will begin by presenting to you the portraits Olive did of everyone in attendance.
As you’ll soon see, a picture truly is worth a thousand words (or in this case, a dollar, which is what Olive charged each of us. A bargain if you ask me.)