Damn, Bookie! You gotta stand up or something.

overcoming exhaustion, acknowledging cycles, toddler fashion, and body movement

Everything comes back around. Even the people that you wished, with every worthy penny tossed into the fountain, would leave yo ass alone. Parental cliche’s circumnavigate to humble the ideas of self as ever-youthful — ever-tapped-in. The sayings that haunted my childhood and continuously put me in my place, all squeezing their superior audio through reluctant teeth and barely parted lips. Some sense of satisfaction comes from acknowledging the continued growth into grown folk business. The seemingly hip, but soon-to-be outdated lingo that melted into my being, that became instinctual and on-brand, plot on loosing their cool as soon as my sassy baby develops enough mouth-shape and sound combinations to tell me off. A foreshadowing of the possibility of her mouth forming these same empowering sentences to the youth of her time. Is it inevitable to be out of fashion? Is it inevitable to come back into style?