if these eyes could speak...

Dear MaMa, Thank you for making such rich meals that send me into a milk coma. And for talking sweet to me in the middle of the night. For sacrificing some leisurely freedoms in order to keep me on schedule. For kissing my neck even though it's often stinky from being a "cheese factory." For shielding me from the rough and tumble games and the thundering noises as my brothers circle around me all day long. For singing to me. And for the ice cream you had earlier.


Dear Stone,

It's my pleasure. I'm your MaMa.


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