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It’s a call i’ll never get …
My hairy legs have a lot more to do with my laziness than my feminist leanings.
My sister Christi had a baby when I was 17, and I had just heard about crib death. The horrible thing was that it wasn’t understood. For some unknown reason the baby would stop breathing. So I would sneak into where the baby was sleeping and put my hand in her crib, hold her little finger, and I’d sleep on the floor like that. It was stupid, I’m sure. But I thought the warmth of my hand might help, that maybe if she felt my pulse it would remind her to breathe.
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Isn’t this the sweetest thing you ever READ?
I love you, Johnny! :)
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