The Healing Power of a Small, Good Thing
/Curled up with the book one evening, I listened to the sounds of my husband opening drawers and stirring pots in the kitchen. My soon to be 7-year-old, came over for a snuggle. He grasped the book from my hands as he curled into my lap. I had just started the first story and my son read to me in his little voice sounding not unlike a Peanuts character. I stroked his hair as he rubbed his foot against mine.
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