Tiny Letters, Tiny Dancer

Dear Cassie,

Thank you for teaching Jack to put a clean sheet and blanket on his bed every day. It’s a small job, but I love that it isn’t mine anymore.


Dear my country,

Let’s try to love each other a little more, mkay?


Dear everyone everywhere,

Special needs parents can feel isolated and not understood. I am currently in that place. Please tread lightly, or I might give you a stern lecture which you neither warranted nor welcomed, xoxo.


Dear Hannah,

You are the queen of the ABA. Thank you for teaching my boys flexibility, and for being a calm presence in my house five days a week.


Dear social media,

I’m happier when I see less of you. No offense.


Dear medieval England,

Why wasn’t I born when you were happening. I mean, I’m straight up glad I wasn’t, and yet…


Dear croissants,

You make January buttery. Which is better.


Dear Jack,

You have been so happy and calm for the past five days. Let’s keep doing this.


Dear Ray,

Thanks for helping Jeff give Jack a blessing six days ago. It appears to have worked.


Dear my physical therapist,

You deserve a prize for helping my core change from goo to muscle, and my hip and low back from clenched fists into moderately stretchy things.


Dear writing group,

I promise not to unfairly malign any of you. Thing night is our thang.


Dear Del Taco,

Do you literally mean “of the taco?” Or is it more like “Taco’s?” Also, thank you for having Cherry Coke on tap. Cheers.


Dear bedtime,

You deserve a crown, my friend. You just keep killing it as best part of the day, consistently. Hands down. I love you.



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