Over the weekend, that became clear. For many months, he might have been mistaken for one. He slept a lot. He was pretty quiet. And there wasn’t a whole lot of interaction. Regardless, I talked to him constantly. I narrated every little thing I did. “Let’s go get you a bib. Bibs are SO important. You, my friend, drool a lot. Oh, look!...Read More
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I'm Meghan. I grew up in Ohio, came of age in Arizona and am now raising a family in Pennsylvania. I'm a freelance writer and essayist, a stay-at-home mom to my seven-year-old son, and a foster parent. I'm told I am too organized and too sarcastic for my own good but I don't see how either is possible.