July 18, 2012


This is my nephew, Sam. When Sam was born I remember telling my whole family how much I would be holding him – I was basically calling dibs against my mom who lives to be a grandma. I knew from experience with my first nephew that babies grow up fast – so I wanted to get in plenty of cuddling before it was too late. It turns out I didn’t hold Sam enough. He had a habit of throwing up all. the. time. And my mom didn’t seem to mind one bit (of course she didn’t) – so she got all the baby cuddles.

So the other day Sam, now 4 years old, and I were laying on my mom’s bed at the lake house – the setting complete with cool, clean sheets and light summer throws with Labyrinth playing on the TV. We both fell asleep at the same time (right around where an under-aged Jennifer Connelly eats the roofied peach and gets inappropriately propositioned by a much older David Bowie at the masquerade ball). I woke up a bit later as David Bowie, in his bitchin’ furry white outfit, sporting some serious package, tells Sarah that he’s exhausted from trying to live up to her expectations. Meanwhile, Sam was fast asleep and perfectly tucked into the C of my torso, his hair all sweaty from that little kid metabolism and the summer sun setting through the windows. The whole scene wasn’t particularly earth-shattering but rather just so familiar, so perfect and true. It was markedly one of the best moments of my life. Bitchin’ David Bowie and all.

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