When no sleep feels like being hungover.

I start to think I should have picked a different weekend but there is no better weekend. Every weekend is the same. Every weekend will feel like we’re just trying to cram it all in. There is no perfect moment.

Cheetos.

I can’t wait to take a nap.

Gratitudes for the space and the ability to make this happen. And there’s not too much screaming. 15 seems so old.

Two-bite cupcakes.

No more snake sightings as of yet.

The older they get, the shorter the years. You just become so much more aware of the passing of time. How much little of it there is. I am afraid of losing it, of wasting it, of there not being enough.

I tell them that for the first time, it’s actually starting to feel like too much.

I will regret this bowl of ice cream in the morning but for now…