THIS is the year I start writing. Here, there, everywhere.
Kenny is five. A little man. Argues everything I say. But he's reading, and arguing, and adding, and arguing, and drawing and writing and arguing...
Josie is two. She cuddles, mumbles, get the odd word right, and acts like someone has taken away human rights every time they say no.
I'm working. And trying to write, but failing.
THIS is the year. Damnit.
