Harrison, I'm sorry that you've been so sick for the last 5 days that yesterday when you woke up you couldn't open your eyes because they were glued shut with goop. I'm sorry that you had to endure 10 minutes of your father scrubbing at your face with a warm wash cloth before you were able to see anything.
I'm sorry that yesterday afternoon, when you were feeling so much better and we were playing in the yard, I wouldn't let you eat any grass, mulch, or maple-seed helicopters, even though you really wanted to and tried to repeatedly.
I'm sorry that when we were playing on the porch, I let our 7 year-old neighbor Alexandra put your bangs in a little unicorn pigtail on the top of your head.
I'm sorry that the other neighborhood kids then laughed at you because you looked like a big dork.
It's just not your week.
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