I don’t like how people look at Graham these days. They used to smile indulgently, but now I see trepidation in their eyes. They used to coo over his baby fat, but now they look him up and down, silently assessing the potential for disruption contained in his strong limbs. 

You know, I wasn’t planning on blogging this evening. I was going to just take the day off, relax and kick back.  But then, while perusing my local paper on-line, I came across this article about something so bizarre that it was clear the universe was asking, nay begging, me to take to the internets and deliver a very special DMD slap-down.

I have been trying out a new early-reading program with Graham the last few days, teaching him language skills that I hope will one day benefit him. Teaching is what parents do, after all. Every day, every hour, we teach our children.

I was 20 years old the summer my nephew was born so it was inevitable that I would become the cool Aunt. And so I did. He’s a small-town kid just like I was, but ever since he’s been old enough to realize it, I’ve lived in big cities and worked in the film and television business. When he was 12 years old he and a friend spent an entire day on the set of the short film Rob and I produced, observing with wide-eyed wonder and stuffing their faces with food from the craft service table.

Graham is quite the lover boy these days. Almost overnight it seems my boy understands the power inherent in hugs and kisses and loving coos and as a result showers me with them at every possible opportunity. But even though, God knows, I’ve spent nearly every day of his short life teasing and coaxing out of him various expressions of affection, I feel like a bit of a fraud, gobbling up this new found goodwill as if it were my due.