the underwear drawer

calitosis

There are a lot of moments that make you realize that your kid is growing up.

Maybe for you, it's when they started talking a lot, telling you stories, making you realize that they actually do have a whole world and a life that will be growing increasingly separate from your own. Maybe it's they day you look at their hands, and realize that they've lost that baby chubbiness, that those dimples over the knuckles are getting shallower, that their feet no longer look like little blocks but are instead getting leaner with thicker skin over the heels and toes. Maybe it's the first time you drop them off alone at school, leaving them to fend for themselves in that cold, cruel world that occasionally includes other thuggish children that may steal their toys and push them down without you right there to scoop them up and make it all better. And while all of these things are good indications, I will tell you the one major thing that makes me realize that Cal is leaving his babyhood behind and slowly joining the ranks of the mature and aging everywhere.




Coming home from work post-call and realizing upon greeting him that Cal had morning breath bad enough to peel paint from a car.