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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

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