They play leap frog over the treetops, and the stars surround him as they sail through clouds that reach out and try to grab his toes.
They play leap frog over the treetops, and the stars surround him as they sail through clouds that reach out and try to grab his toes.
It made his feet itch to be outside, made his whole body itch with the need to taste the grass and sticks between his teeth.
The flowers become an ocean he must steer through, his ship splashing against their stems like the lips of waves. They cry out to him as he passes, shouting praises of his bravery.
When he’s angry, he’s gnashing teeth and fire. He shakes the floor with his heavy feet, making the walls and trees tremble. He throws his toys and his magnets, sending them scattering across the tile. They cower in fear when they hear him coming.
His mom’s hand taps out a rhythm against his back as she pushes him higher and higher. He wants to kick the clouds and fly to the top of the trees.
The green turret of the castle cuts above the fog, calling out his name. There’s treasure nearby and his excitement is dripping off him, laced with sweat - swimming through his blood, filling his lungs and his mouth and stomach.
He sees his dad headed towards him so he runs the opposite way, stomping through the puddles in his path. Warnings of “don’t run” swim past his ears, but he ignores them and runs faster.
Her nose is your favorite - you chomp down with a voracious hunger, gnashing your teeth against her velvety plastic, soothing your swollen gums.
He likes the way it sounds, big, fearful; how it leaves your mouth hollow and round, like a sense of foreboding.
I want to tell you how fragile your hair looks - small wisps jutting out at all angles, sticky with water. I want to tell you how precious your laugh sounds as it bubbles up, deep from your belly.
E knows when it's time to end it, when it's time to evolve, and when it is time to evaluate your options. E embodies love and strength and humility.
He thrashes around, finding the perfect hollow where his body melts into the folds of the cushions. Grabbing the remote, he wildly pushes buttons - the chair responds, it’s motor shifting to match the control.
Slather on sunscreen. Chase baby around the house to ensure he is covered from head to toe. Baby may put up resistance, push through. Word of caution: after baby is covered they will be slippery, also sunscreen spots do not look good on clothing.
It’s the color of freedom and back roads, a deep rusted orange. As the paint chips flake off, memories scatter like marbles - road trips through dusty and desolate trails, sticky sweet cuddles, inky black nights punctuated by the occasional shooting star.
His mom jams his hat on his head. He tolerates it because it keeps the sun out of his eyes, which he hates.
He knows he is in charge here, doesn’t take any lip from his subjects, They lie scattered around him, discarded in a moment of whim and brilliance.