Sydney
Blake babbles the entire late evening drive to Silverhide. He likes rock music, especially when it’s loud enough to send a tremor through the truck, and squeals with delight everytime I go over a bump or a corner too sharply.
Sarah would kill me if she knew how loud the music was or how reckless I’m driving, but Blake notoriously hates his carseat, and he’s having the time of his life right now.
I can’t lie. I really enjoy having a kid, especially a son. Lately, when my thoughts aren’t on his mother, I imagine what kind of life we’ll have together. What kind of sports he’ll want to play, whether he’ll go to Wellington to pursue academics or warrior training. I wonder whether he’ll continue to look like me or grow to resemble his mom. I wonder what our next baby will be like, esp
