I am hiding from my almost 9 month old son, eating an old fashioned dunkin’ donut and drinking coffee while scouring the internet for my favorite blogs. Hiding. Yes, that’s right. It’s what I do to survive. See, the boy can’t get enough of me. He can be happy as a clam, doin’ his thing, but if he catches a glimpse of me in the corner of his eye you’d think that his world was ending because I’m not carrying him. So I hide. I sneak. I scurry on tiptoe as to remain undetected. Is that bad? Too bad. It’s necessary. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Like I said, survival.

He’s cute, though. And as soon as I’m done, guess what I’m gonna go do? Pick him up and give him smooches. Can’t help it. Like I said, survival.



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