I’ve not really introduced you to my husband yet. He’s in this story, despite his wish to be cool and anonymous like Batman. He’s ex-military so we’re going to call him Sarge. So… meet Sarge.
I’ve changed. I’ve become the mother people hate. It’s gross.
This is how it happened:
My little mate has reached the age where he neeeeeds to be FREE. Straps are nothing to this wild spirit, and being carried simply means more opportunities for backflip practice.
My husband (Sarge) is all for the freedom.
“Let him be free,” he says.
Easier said than done my naive, optimistic friend. Easier. said. than. done.