Kids grow up. They start unfurling feelings, picking companions and futures. It is very cute. It's also hard not to wince knowing that it never gets any easier.

I am the fickle one. I do not care about what ails you (stop whining), especially if that thing is me (then get someone else), and unless I ask you to play me a song - don't. I know Nebraska is already pissing and moaning and pining internally, it'll break him, my Built of No will drive him up a wall then into somebody's pants. And I just can't feel anything but grrrrrrr about that fact. The best/most I can do is tell him the truth. If you text me 'thinking of you' one more fucking time, I am going to send a boob shot to someone else. Seriously. I have options. So: Shut. Up.

Love is a kick in the head.