Wednesday, December 23, 2009

My son, my son

I'm late for work, but I can't move. My husband comes into the living room, smiling. My son is sitting crosslegged on the piano stool with his little knee sticking out of a hole in his stripey pyjamas, and he is making magic at the keyboard. It's a newly created version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, and it's beautiful and amazing.

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