It is very rare to have a morning with my oldest son. On a normal weekday, I am coercing him out of bed, making breakfast and school lunch, getting dressed, and getting him into the car in time for school.
In “time.”
My least favorite thing is time.
I hate pushing it on him at such a young age, when his instincts are to play and he knows nothing of the dreaded “lateness” we fear as adolescents and adults.
This particular day, school was closed and I didn’t have to leave for work until 10.
Enter: bubbles.


bubble2 bubble3 bubbles bubble bubbles2 _MG_0708

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