Dear Timo, Every year on your birthday, I look at photos of you, and I marvel… and cry. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you have gone from a 5 pound newborn to a 5 year-old boy. Beautiful at birth, delicate and serene, we fawned over your exquisite bone structure… which was quickly obscured
These days, most of my time is divided between wishing my toddler would talk more, and silently willing nearly everyone else to shut the f*ck up. You see, my beautiful, bright, sweet little boy has a speech delay – which, while both common and curable, is not without its own set of trials and tribulations.
We should not have to defend ourselves to each other. We are free (and encouraged!) to make our own decisions, to be inadequately, incorrectly, or even overly informed.
