He enthusiastically throws down the stuffed soft toys perched on top the couch. His cheeky grin, his apple cheeks, the two lower teeth shining testament to his fun.
And when they are all down, why he picks it up off the floor and starts all over again.
His wee butt wriggling and shuffling to no avail as his short legs provide insufficient leverage to climb back on the sofa.
His bright brown eyes see a solution: he flings his arms round my neck, and clambers on my reclining body to reach the sofa seat.
Atilla has terrific problem-solving skills.
Highway Twenty-Nine: Ageing Boomers, Laurie & Les, Talk Politics.
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*“It’s in the air, mate. Anger, cruelty, bitter rage. We’re taking it in
with every breath, like some colourless, odourless, poisonous gas. But
where’s i...
1 week ago
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