I open my eyes, my head still on the pillow. Jeb’s already awake, standing next to me, his face near mine.

“You should already be up doing your writing.”

He’s right.

I took the liberty of a Sunday morning and slept in til 7.

With over 300 posts to the Archives, there’s proof that some kind of engrained habit has been established. WordPress encourages my expression at every publishing click, with catchy phrases like “Dynamite!” or “Dope!”

This morning it’s not just auto-generated dialogue from WordPress.

Apparently my son thinks I’m a writer, too.

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