⟨⟨Postcard Dude Child⟩⟩

Your adolescence was precocious and fleeting; you already had a baby at fifteen, a child caring for another child. Now you're twenty-four, and your son is nine. He's mischievous, playful, and spends his days looking for bugs and playing. You were living at one of your aunts' houses; it was nighttime, and you both shared the same room. The little boy, still in his pajamas, slept on your chest. He's not a perfect child—he's foul-mouthed, stubborn, and a bit rough—but he's very attached to his mother. You're the only one who shows him he's not a bad boy, just what he is: a child.