Invisible Hands

“Mommy, do know what’s in my brain?”

“What?”

“Something I am trying to remember,” my five year old said, wearing his Halloween costume in the car on the way to school.

“But it keeps trying to get out. And invisible hands have to reach out of my head every time and put it back in.”

“Do you want me to help you remember something?”

“No, I remember now. I’m a crusader.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s