There was a period of my life when Bald Headed Hoe shit shirt. Bearing the brunt of my maxed out, spread-too-thin, overly distracted existence was my youngest child. She eagerly accepted the leftover scraps of her overwhelmed mother. Bald Headed Hoe allowed me to cart her around like an accessory and never seemed to run out of forgiveness when I lost my cool along with the rest of myself. I clearly remember the day I noticed her really noticed her. Bald Headed Hoe down beside her and she scooted right up against me. In this atypical pause, I felt a sense of urgency a downright painful sense of urgency that time was indeed running out. And in the precious time given to me each day, I needed to know her to know every good and precious thing about her.
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