Spring was a character-building season for me. I learned how to share some of my most prized possessions, namely, my babysitter Ira. (While readers might resent the term 'possession,' I have no doubt she'd agree that I own her.). Cohen, a fellow June baby, took up residence at my place for several days while his mom was recovering from shoulder surgery. After a brief, rocky start (let's just say our schedules were not in sync), our rhythms grew completely in harmony; our termperments, fantastic complements to one another. From Cohen, I learned the art of sitting quietly and drawing. And from me, he learned how to dance on tables.
It was a beautiful yin-yang kind of relationship. Until I discovered Cohen's hair. Oh, that hair. So thick and lush. Just begging to be pulled. And so I did. A lot. It really got a rise out of him, which made me only want to do it more.
The following week, Cohen enrolled in Little Snowflakes day care. Sometimes we see each other in the park, and I'll do a little wave. I check out his hair and (try to) move on.
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