Finley Files: Fall into Fall

Dear Finley,

What am I going to do when you're grown-up? Sixteen, or twenty, or twenty-five, and you won't let me smell your head?

Am I going to have to sneak into your bed while you're sleeping just so I can plant a kiss on you?

Will you still ask to hold hands when you're twelve?

I'd like a crystal ball for Christmas so I can know the answers to these things.

I love my little fish.

Love, Mama