Category: James
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—James, Age 3, Discoverer of Forbidden Textures He says it like he’s returning from a quest.Like he crossed the Great Carpet Plains, braved the Perils of the Playroom, and bartered with a mysterious merchant named “Target.” He stands before you, palms shimmering with cosmic goo, eyes wide with the knowledge that life will never be…
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I ascend my mother. Not metaphorically. Literally. I climb her like a weary mountain explorer scaling Everest, except I am wearing dinosaur pajamas and carrying a candy cane that drips with the sticky promise of chaos. I settle into the sacred nook between her shoulder and her head — the throne of kings, the cradle…
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I will not nap today. I declare this from the hallway like a warrior king announcing war. It is Saturday — the holiest of days — and naps are for weekdays, peasants, and babies who don’t understand freedom. I am none of those things. Mom kneels down and says, “Buddy, you’re tired.” I gasp. Tired?…
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The guest bed had never seen such power.Not during holidays.Not during Mimi’s visits.Not even during that one time Pookie Cat tried to claim it as her winter estate. Tonight, it belonged to Jack and James, two brothers sprawled across a mountain range of pillows like tiny emperors of comfort. The comforter was rumpled just enough…
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James approached the ottoman with the slow, deliberate steps of a man who was moment an away from giving a life altering speech. He sipped his juice box like it was a stress coffee. He stared at his council — Tequila (Right), Little Tequila (Left)… and now… A third. A newcomer. An unvetted citizen. James…
