Just as L began talking about his many conquests (the holding hands, pulling hair variety), this morning he asked where all of his stuffies had gone.

L: “Do we still have Stingy and Sharky and Woofy?”

M: “I think we do.”

Pan to the bed where Sammy the ice-cream sandwich, Bully the bulldog, Ali the albino alligator, and the above are now resting.

There is a reason we don’t throw everything away. The purple blanket he’s slept with from his first breath is still accessible in a heartbeat. Especially because I have it in triplicate.

Can never be too prepared for age eight or eighteen.