The monkeys tore her comforter.
Her favourite cuddle, ripped to bits.
She’s giggling still. She’s wriggling still.
But seeing us distraught, it hits.
At seven months, she’s learning that
Attachment is a learned remorse.
The monkeys tore her comforter.
Her favourite cuddle, ripped to bits.
She’s giggling still. She’s wriggling still.
But seeing us distraught, it hits.
At seven months, she’s learning that
Attachment is a learned remorse.