This is my boy, Alec.If you, as a stranger, were to meet him, he would probably be holding onto my skirts, half-whispering, half-whining, “Hold me, hold me,” and as much as he would be shy in your presence, he also wouldn’t be able to look away.
Fifteen minutes later (or less if you were an Alec-whisperer), he would be full of giggles and words and all the ideas that seem to randomly pop into a three-year-old’s mind. He would be charming and a bit too silly, and then you would see my Alec. ...continue reading