I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope/ For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,/ For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith/ But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
[T.S. Eliot]

as I walked by carrying laundry from Naomi’s most recent experiment taking off a poopy pull-up herself:

“You wanna be Sleeping Beauty?”
“Ya. Seeping Booty.”