Henry and I are up before everyone else and I turned on the Olympics. He finds them fascinating, I’ve always found them sort of meh. I remember watching them when I was little and I thought they were neat, so I can see why he likes watching it. So we’re making childhood memories, he and I, watching the men’s breast stroke at 7 am on a Saturday.

As they were racing, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye: he was bobbing his neck back and forth like a pigeon in time with the swimmers. Then I noticed that I was doing it too!

Glad no one was up to see that, but the entire internet is free to read it.