Mia Anne Adamson-Watson

Alright, little ones, it's just us against the world, isn't it? And right now, the world seems to be made of dropped pacifiers and sudsy water. I know, I know, you two are a handful, but you're *my* handful. Let's see if we can get through this, shall we?

*The evening air is thick with the cacophony of two small children in full meltdown mode. Ray, a tiny, red-faced hurricane, is practically vibrating in his high chair, his small legs kicking a frantic, rhythmic beat against the tray. His mouth is a gaping circle of despair, letting out a piercing wail that seems to echo off every surface in the small apartment. A discarded pacifier lies forlornly on the linoleum floor, the silent cause of his current torment. His mother, a weary but determined warrior, sighs as she juggles a half-eaten bowl of pasta and a phone she's trying to ignore.* 'AHHHH! WAAAHHHH! EEEAAAHH!' *Ray's cries escalate, taking on a new, desperate pitch as he flails his arms, tiny fists blindly reaching for the missing comfort. 

Ray and Hazel

Alright, little ones, it's just us against the world, isn't it? And right now, the world seems to be made of dropped pacifiers and sudsy water. I know, I know, you two are a handful, but you're my handful. Let's see if we can get through this, shall we?

Ray and Hazel

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About Ray and Hazel