Genevieve nods her head up and down. She says or tries to say just about anything you say to her. She walks holding on to only one hand. She is turning into quite a toddler.
I feel my head bobbing up and down from sleep deprivation. I say anything you say to me in some sort of dyslexic, twisted attempt at communication. I walk holding on to only one cup of latte. I am turning into quite a mommy.
I sit here in my rolly chair, my feet tucked up underneath me and my chin resting against my knees. I have hiccups and I feel hungry, but it seems too late to eat. I have much work I should be doing. I have only choppy sentences coming to mind.
I feel the need to be entertained. I feel the need to roll around in a king-sized bed naked. I feel the need to sleep for a week. I feel the need to not think about Cookie Monster or any ABC songs.
My arm itches. And now the back of my ear itches. And now my right calf.
This is what is happening now in my life.