Category: James
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For a moment — a rare, shimmering moment — the pookie cat settles on me like a warm, purring badge of honor. James is curled into my side, serene as a woodland creature in a children’s book. Jack is draped across him in perfect sibling alignment, not a single elbow weaponized, not a single knee…
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Featuring Tequila (Right), Little Tequila (Left), and One Very Overworked Toddler King James climbed onto the bed with the gravitas of a man about to deliver a State of the Union address. He surveyed his plush council. He inhaled deeply. He exhaled like a disappointed CEO. James: “Ladies… gentlemen… stuffed citizens… we have a crisis.”…
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It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. I was sprawled across the ottoman like a Roman emperor in sweatpants, ruling my kingdom of blanket, Cheez-It crackers within reach, and the glowing screen of Floor Is Lava blasting at full volume. The contestants screamed, the lava bubbled, and I was content. But then—something shifted. The…
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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…
