Kid Stuff
I suppose I should preface all this to say I am not Another Girl in Greenpoint anymore. I have become Another Girl Priced Out of Greenpoint , and have flown nine miles south, to a little birdhouse with Michael. Moving in with someone is a very adult thing to do. It’s a time for plans. And cutlery. Discussions about duvet covers, and the arrangement of books on bookcases. I’m not sure how it started. Maybe it started with the prevalence of sidewalk chalk in our neighborhood, used not to ironically point out some over-priced artisanal sale, but to naturally draw out a map to the buried treasure, under the outlines of a hopscotch court, right next to a giant star and a hippo-person. This was chalk that we tread on every day through the spring and summer. Or maybe the mosquitoes started it? One night in early spring, the mosquitoes found the holes in our screens, buzzing and biting us awake all night. I sighed, ready to suffer through another summe