Monday, August 15, 2011
“Poop,” I say cheekily.
“It’s cotton…Seriously, can we skip the gifts this year?” I say, daunted by the thought of coming up with a decent gift made of cotton.
George jokes, “Get me a pack of tube socks from Apu.” (Apu is the nice man who sells socks outside the corner deli.)
“I’ll take a few more nursing bras,” I laugh.
“Ah, the bloom is off the rose,” George says with a flourish.
“Really, Claire is our gift this year,” I say wistfully.
“She’s not made of cotton,” George says.
“She makes a lot of poop. Let’s stick with poop,” I say.
“The bloom is truly off the rose…”