Tag / fuck

August 29, 2013

Bus f

Bus F

As we drive to soccer (literally, soccer, in the mini van) over the freshly paved street of Shelburbia Oliver chatters in the back, half to himself, half to me. “Sometimes don’t you want to scream f-u-c-k?” He is trying it out…spelling it show show he controls that powerful word, instead of it controlling him. It’s possible that I gave him tacit permission about three minutes ago during our last ride from school. After Leo’s rushed morning departure I was waiting to meet the 3:30 Read more […]

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