Army Boy is almost seven AND A HALF and he's all gangly arms, pseudo-cool moves, bruises and spacey teeth. I'm pretty used to having a gaggly gaggle of boys running around the house, down the block, at the park...
The other day the doorbell rang. When I opened the door, there stood a girl. At LEAST a year older.
Wearing lipstick.
To see my baby boy.
He wasn't home, so I gave her our phone number. Hey, it's cold here and no one wants to walk two blocks when it's -30C. Well. Now they sit on the phone and chat. Army Boy plays XBox while the phone sits beside him with the speaker on. They complain about little sisters. They talk about school.
And so it begins.
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