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Thursday, January 13, 2005
My godson. The boy who loved me again so much on my first day in Chicago that he jumped on me and tore at my eyes.
I just realized I never kissed the little bugger goodbye. He was sleeping so peacefully, the rest of us pussyfooting about trying not to unleash another torrent of howling. I forgot to kiss him in the rush to get his mom out the door and have her all to myself.
Ok, so he rather irritated me when I was there. His poop really stinks. He laughs when he farts. He prefers to run around without diapers and then pees on his lunch bag.
One night his parents were in the bath, I assume together. Because they left me alone with the kid. Good, I thought, he is playing with his toys. I turned back to the more pressing urgency of disaster voyeurism.
He was quiet for once.
Then "Look! Look!"
His mom screamed.
Green scribble tattoos covered his legs, belly, arms and face.
I forgot he got markers for Christmas.
Back into the bath.
When I went to the bathroom, there he was. In the bath. Rubbing my toothbrush on his penis.
My toothbrush hasn't been the same since.
Say hello to the perfect contraceptive:
(Despite everything, I really miss you, Lil' Skipper.)
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