(Oh and for those telling me Sense8 wasn't that great after seeing one or two episodes? Finish it. Profound and fun as fuck. And I'm NOT a Wachowski fan, truth be told.)
Caleb's request coincides with our monthly co-parent meeting in which we coordinate schedules, split costs, report on concerns and fill each other in on anything and everything concerning Henry. We make sure we're on the same page at all times, with regards to meals/friends/activities/rules/downtime and behavior. We check in formally and nail it all down each month, every month. His idea was that we should have fun doing it. Get dressed up, have a fancy, multi-course dinner and spend the evening instead of sitting on hard stools at his kitchen counter going over dentist receipts and calendars under bright lights, a chore so far in this life.
It's hard to argue with that but in this house agreeing with the Devil about anything brands you a thief and a traitor and someone who should have her head examined.
It has been.
My head sits on a platter in the living room, if you're wondering. A living specimen being perpetually dissected, debated and debriefed. I won't need to bring it since it's usually busy or broken anyway. I was planning to float it in a barbiturate looking glass so that instead of having feels I could just have fun for once.
Of course it's wrong. Of course. But this