dshans
They call me The Dribbler
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The memory of my exclamation that "it's a Patrick" ("it's a Megan" would have been fine with me) when my child was born. It was a long row to hoe, more for my wife than me as you can imagine, but it wasn't easy for me, either. Between her growing girth and all the pillows she preferred in the later stages I wound up on the bedroom floor more than once.
Cooking for her in light of her ever changing wants, cravings and unforeseen sudden dislikes was a challenge. I gained more weight than she in the early days by eating meals she rejected because I'd sliced carrots in thin "coins" rather than in a slender chiffonade.
Our boy was more than worth it.
Cooking for her in light of her ever changing wants, cravings and unforeseen sudden dislikes was a challenge. I gained more weight than she in the early days by eating meals she rejected because I'd sliced carrots in thin "coins" rather than in a slender chiffonade.
Our boy was more than worth it.
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