It’s raining candies
I am loving the vivid imagination of my 4-year-old The stories that he weaves are part magical and part hysterical. Here is this morning’s one.
As I lazed on my bed this morning, somewhere in the region of delicious half awakeness, I heard the urgent pitter-patter of little feet. They were loud as they passed by my door and then softer as they scattered around the house. Little A had woken up. I knew something wasn’t right.