Last night as I was watching Obama make his acceptance speech, goosebumps on my skin, Sam sitting next to me, he managed to put the hook of a plastic hanger down his throat. It took 5 seconds. He was screaming. It was my first time feeling like a horrible mother, after all of those other times. He's 8-months-old, weighs 22.6 pounds and is pulling himself up on any available piece of furniture.
Today, he and I walked down to the 56th and Illinois Street shops in our new 'hood, and shared a stawberry Gelato at the Flying Cupcake. I felt like a good mom then.
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