Saturday, December 8, 2007

Conversations with Connor: 3 (3:27am)



(Daddy, breathless after having sprung out of bed like a freakin gazelle): What's wrong, hon?

My paper airplane is squished.

(Daddy laughing, cause it's 3:30am and what else can he do?) Hon, I told you you couldn't go to bed with it.

(Connor laughing as tears course down his face) I know.

(Connor goes back to sleep and Daddy goes back to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling wide awake.)

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Come on, sailor. I love you long time.