It’s almost fall, and the other day Olive said defiantly, “It’s not fair”
These two things seem unrelated, but they are one and the same, my friends. These two things – the sudden bite in the air in the early morning and late evening, and the rage-fits of a tiny dictator – are markers of the unrelenting marching forward of time. Winter becomes spring becomes summer becomes fall. Swollen bellies become babies become toddlers become hotly sassy almost-three-year-olds who are, by turn, infuriating and inspiring.