Daddyo, on finding me slumped in a fetal position on the couch, buried in cats: “Mommyo, do you want to go lie down? You look like you feel awful.”
Mommyo, beset by a migraine and an uncommonly severe allergy attack: “I’m a huge ball of misery and I’m bringing everyone else down.”
The Four-Year-Old, shoving a cat aside so that she can put her head on my hip: “You’re kind of bringing me down on your lap.”
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About Shala Howell
Writer of things ranging from optical network switching white papers to genetic testing patient education materials to historical fiction set in an 1880s asylum. When I’m not scratching my head over pesky characters who refuse to do things how I want them done or dreaming of my next book (which will of course be much easier to write and research than the current one), my writerly self can be found sifting through the stacks in my church’s archives looking for a few good stories to tell, blogging about life with a very curious Six-Year-Old at Caterpickles.com, or musing about books and the writing life at BostonWriters.wordpress.com.
Michael Howell
Shala Howell
I hope you are feeling better.
Love, mom
I’m good. Thanks. It’s the Four Year Old’s turn this weekend.
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Thanks for stopping by. I’ll keep an eye on your blog too.