September 2011 – My heart attack kid. That’s what I call him. The number of times that kid just throws himself wholeheartedly at whatever and causes my heart to leap into my throat . . . well, you think I’d be used to it by now. E is and I’m actually kind of, sorta getting there. But our poor friend, F, who hosted us up at her Whistler pad this weekend, had about five heart attacks watching little e launch himself down the hills at the bike park, legs akimbo, not finding the pedals until he was all the way down one slope and halfway up the next. Luckily, he has been blessed with an innate sporty ability. Which he certainly didn’t get from me.
© Kiki Yee, 2011