New Year’s Day.
I’m locked away in quarantine, missing Charlie (and Elysha Dicks and Clara, too), so I decide to text him.
Charlie’s just 9 years-old, so he doesn’t own a phone, but he can text with me via his iPad on the home’s WiFi network.
I want to tell him that I love him and miss him.
The text exchange below occurs.
Did you see the miracle? The moment of exceptional, overwhelming parental pride?
Charlie used the wrong form of “to” in his message to me, but then he corrected himself.
Parenthetically!
Ten hours and two minutes into 2022, and I had already hit a high point in the year.
