When Andrew was little we moved out from the babydaddy and fled to grandma’s little rental in Bumfuck, Egypt. We were Very Poor and grandma let us live there nearly rent free.
Did I mention that we were Poor? I decorated with Salvation army stuff. One of the things I did was, for lack of a better description, an arrangement of crappy old sticks. I thought it was artistic. Andrew, at two, thought it was lacking something. He used his pop-apart beads and added “flowers” to the arrangement. What an eye!
He’s posing here, thinking he was awfully cute.
This was in that pile of pictures that the babydaddy (and ex) recently supplied me with (for buttering up purposes) in preparation for defaulting on the fucking mortgage that he never quite took me off of. He hasn’t defaulted yet, but I feel it coming. I feel my credit scores ebbing in the background flow.