Ten is a funny age. He still climbs into boxes and up trees making himself both small and tall- which of course he is. Right now he is cross legged in the laundry basket that he dragged down from the bedroom. He wants it to be a boat but instead settles on calling it a seat. I can tell by the way that he is holding the edges and rocking gently that in fact he is a boat on the water just as he was when he was three. He chattering about the clothes as I fold them. That is our division of labor. Read more […]

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