This is one of my favorite pictures ever. Christmas afternoon, 1997. It was a very mild day, and Quinlan, age 1 1/2, spent a blissful hour with my brother Jason picking holly berries off my mother's shrubs and throwing them into the creek that runs through the back of her yard.
I love the shared impishness on the boys' faces.
I was sick as a dog with the umpteenth virus of the winter, four months pregnant with Garrick, and a mere seven weeks away from being confined to best rest for an excruciating three months.