Nose to nipple, you focus on not falling asleep.
Covering
hard edges and locking cupboards from wobbly legs.
You
cut toast into QUARTERS and give him milk in the RED cup.
‘Share!
There’s plenty of toys.’
Welling
up at the little white shirt and emblem jumper.
‘What
did you have for lunch?’
‘Don’t
know,’ he shrugs.
You
listen to his football, cycling and gaming monologues.
He
tells you disgusting facts, ‘when mummifying, Ancient Egyptians pulled brains
out through noses!’
At
the gates, you reach out.
‘Bye,
Mum.’
‘Is
Santa real?’
You
explain.
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