I'm scrubbing the bathroom after having cleaned the kitchen and changing the sheets and sorting about 200 movies.
Number one comes in and says "Mom, do you clean when you are sad?"
Ummmm, yah, Bud. Sometimes.
His reply..."Well! That explains it."
He's gone. MG is gone. Sometimes I just can't believe it. I tried so hard to be what he needed. I want to just go to bed until the hurting stops.
Wake me up next year.