When the boys were younger, and no one was sleeping through the night, and Gus couldn't go six weeks without an ear infection or strep throat diagnosis, Larry and I used to pad around the the house, pawing the sleep out of our eyes and chanting under our breaths, four and six, four and six, four and six.
Four and six, we believed, were the magic ages, when the boys would be boys, not babies, and life would start to resemble a lively family movie, as opposed to Night of the Living Dead Part Three: And Also? You Have to Go To Work.
I don't get to say this very often, but we were right.
Four and six, we believed, were the magic ages, when the boys would be boys, not babies, and life would start to resemble a lively family movie, as opposed to Night of the Living Dead Part Three: And Also? You Have to Go To Work.
I don't get to say this very often, but we were right.
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