It’s weird having a three

It’s weird having a three year old child. She says the funniest things. The other night as supper she looks at me and says, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I don’t know where she comes up with stuff. Actually, I realized later that that particular phrase is often repeated on PB&J Otter, but still.

The dog, on the other hand, never says anything intelligible. Just barks. Although there are times when I would give cash money to find out what’s going through his brain. He looks at me sometimes like he passionately wants to speak but can’t. Then he usually pees or does something equally endearing.

My good friend Bill and his wife visited last weekend. Bill was the best man in my wedding. His brother and his wife just lost a baby, about as far along as Jen and I were. My heart is broken for them, but I hope that I can somehow help. It’s been over a year and a half for us, and the sting is still there. It’s mostly not so bad, but there are times when it’s worse. This week, for example, I was asked on two occasions about my second child and had to tell people that he was stillborn. Invariably, people feel embarrassed and awkward at having asked, and they fall all over themselves to apologize, and they genuinely try to be helpful.

But it still stings. And I guess it always will.

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