Hiding Place

By Renae Brumbaugh


2014: The boy child is getting all grown up. He’s in 7th grade, and on the football team, and this mama’s heart is a little sad. So, in honor of crying mamas everywhere, sitting in the stands watching their babies get pummeled and longing for yesteryear, I decided to share a throwback to a sweeter, less violent time. Here’s a story from 2008: The conversation in our car went something like this: Me: Foster, are you excited about getting a pet fish? Foster: Yes. Me: What are you going to name your pet fish? Foster: Jimmy.
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