I knew this time would come but not with my Q-Tip.

Our tall, skinny, seven-year-old was to be my indeterminant go-to snuggler. He was, from birth, my easiest baby, easy to soothe, always grinning ear to ear, generous with laughs, and tender. He was the beautiful blue-eyed boy every young woman dreams of and the one I missed most when kindergarden snatched him from me. My Peruvian friend deemed him the incarnate Paul Newman.

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