I know I've been away for a really long time but trust me, you were better off.

And I also know that my last few posts, and this post as well, are not "real" posts. But you're gonna have to give me some time while I warm up to this whole blogging thing again. In the mean time, I just had to share this with you because, well, I want to know if it makes you cry and laugh simultaneously, as it did me.

I hesitated when you asked me, because I am mean and evil and enjoy the sound of your head exploding, and then said yes. Of course. It's Halloween. And Leta, I don't think you have ever loved me more than you did in that moment. In fact, you took the time to hug me and tell me that I am wonderful before ripping into a full-sized Hershey's bar. It is not lost on me that you showed such affection because of a goddamn chocolate bar and not because I carried you in my womb for nine months or because I pushed your seven-pound body out my wee waw. For a chocolate bar that did not whip out its boob while standing in line at the post office because you needed to be fed. A chocolate bar that has not cupped its hands underneath your mouth as you throw up a cheese quesadilla. That being said, there is a reason you give boxes of chocolate to your loved ones on Valentine's Day and not, say, a picture of vaginal stitches next to a thought bubble that says, "I love you THIS much!"

Dooce. I adore her.