just my boys on an ordinary morning in august. chris had gone for an early swim and francis and i toted coffees and kisses down that way before waving him onto the train.
i'll never tire of saying it: "my boys." and i'll never get used to the sight: my baby in the arms of my love, and how each makes the other laugh like no other, and how the little one is the spitting image of the other (with maybe a small dash of mama in there...).
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