Rhys has started to put himself in preemptive time-outs, when he suspects he's about to do something he knows he shouldn't. Like most other things with him, for me, it's adorable. If only I were so smart.
No point in writing today, it would only be a catalogue of minor disappointments, and I'm in no mood to try to make any of it funny.
I am growing weary of the life that has become encrusted around me, the curl-footed barnacles of love.
.
