Elizabeth is an editor at the magazine I work at. I've been over to her house a few times, because my friend was babysitting her five year old boy, Graham. It's an uncluttered two bedroom house, and the longer I stay here the more I realize how kid friendly it is.

On Sunday night, Graham peeked his head around the corner of the kitchen and motioned to me with a foam soard. I grabbed the other weapon and we fought, and he giggled like he was having the time of his life. We cut off each others limbs, yelled out, "I'm regenerating my head!" and died.

It seems strangly eye-roll inducing that I am getting to know Elizabeth and her husband Roger now, at the tail-end of three years of making her aquaintance. We are able to talk about music which, under normal circumstances, I am only really able to do with folks online, as I haven't found too many people in Fresno who like to get to know EVERYSINGLEFLIPPINTHING about the labels and bands they love...the bands I love too, I should specify. I feel like making a club.

Elizabeth describes herself as a very open person, and I see how that translates with her son. She says that he voices his confusion and his feelings. Nothing seems to be off limits and he can ask about anything.

I wonder what things would be like if we could all feel that way, instead of being frightful about how others might react.

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