Dear Man, That’s you when you were only two-months old. You had just learned a nifty trick and that trick was holding your head up without assistance. Bossy laid you on the drafty living room floor with nothing but a flimsy blanket to separate you from the sea of painted hardwood flooring, and there you…
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Newsletter: Month One-hundred-and-thirty-two.
Dear Miss Eleven, That’s you when you were just a few hours old. You didn’t even cry when you were born, which Bossy didn’t consider a blessing in the least. In fact it was Bossy — legs still in the air — who kept hollering in the general direction of her husband, “Are you sure…