Paranoia
Dear Little George,
I had a bad dream last night. Let's just say that you were not well and it wasn't going to work out between us.
So this morning I find myself wanting you to bully my insides with your feet, your hands, your large bum, anything. I sat still and waited. Nothing. I poked at you. I squeezed you. Nothing. You slept all morning and refused to wake up making me completely paranoid.
A can of apple juice from the vending machine later....
You're alive and kicking.
Sorry for the disruption. Thanks for moving.
Love,
Mama