It's the first day of school and all the other, better bloggers than me will be offering lovely, heartfelt posts recapping the halcyon days of the past summer and looking forward in hopeful prose to the year ahead. They will tell you how their
The other bloggers will mention how cute they looked in their, say, blue crab shirt or their green shirt with a stylized fish on it, the colors making their eyes dance; they might mention how proud they were of their new shoes and too-small socks and how that made
Those more sentimental bloggers would probably mention how big and bulky and packed full of dreams and supplies and hopes and uncertainties their new backpacks seemed, adding details like how cute the little wolf on
The better parent bloggers might post something about how the road ahead seems so long for them, so seemingly unpredictable and sometimes scary; how they wish they could help them more but
They'd ask themselves if perhaps they should have gone camping one more time, or made it to the amusement park with each one by themselves once more; should
They'd admit their own sadness, their own regrets, their own melancholy at knowing the summer they were seven, or nine, or fifty-one for that matter, is over and will, never, ever return. The summer they were Angels and started climbing trees.
No, I am not going to do any of that. I will, however, give you these "little, tiny, scary, pink monsters" N made so at least you won't think I'm some sort of slacker blogger-dude:
I can't really tell what that one on the right is, a skull and crossbones, in pink I guess and the other is an alien of some sort, maybe...
Damned allergies, my eyes keep tearing up.