In lieu of wordygirl content today, please go and read the following two items. You won't regret it, I promise.
Dooce's letter to her five-year-old daughter.
Linda's letter to her one-year-old son.
It's amazing how the very women who inspire me to write - moreover, to write in this particular medium - are the same women who make anything I might ever write here utterly irrelevant, not to mention hopelessly clumsy and dreary in comparison. As I read their words, I agree with every emotion they express, and wish that I could convey my joy, my gratitude, my frustration, my love, my amazement, my pride, my exhaustion, and a million other things just half as well as they do. Maybe some day I'll just show these two entries to Gwen and say, "yeah. I felt that way too."
Somehow I don't think that'll quite work. Oh well.