tail tell.

that's a dog on his back. it's a boy dog, not because my child is also a boy but because i just know. he's made of quasi-corduroy material, in wide wale. (i worked in a clothing store at the mall when i was 19 or so, long enough to get the employee discount on my first purchase and learn that corduroy comes in wales.) corduroy dog's tail doubles as a leash—not for the dog but for the child.


i never imagined i'd be a mom who would lead her kid around by tether. generally, i never did much imagining about motherhood before i was on the brink of it. now that i have crossed the chasm and become the keeper of another human being, i imagine myself doing whatever is reasonable to maintain safety and good spirits.

he doesn't mind giving cordy the dog a piggy-back ride. the limitations of cordy's tail tend to confound him, but he bounces back (literally and figuratively) really well. this is because my son is a staunch conservator of his time: he will spend seconds—not minutes, and certainly nothing beyond—dwelling on that which he cannot have. then he's off discovering something else that makes him happy.

it's a good way to be.