I toe you so

Fatherhood: look before you step, now more than ever.
Step up, and it up. Too.  Toe and the extension of it is a circuit to begin to know where you are.
Think about it: where you are: membrane.  We need to learn the rudiments and curves of our membrane.
We need to begin to be in our little body; baby massage we learned to help our boy.

I toe you this before.  I toe you and I meant it and still mean it.  A drawing and night words never written, never mind I conceived it.  Lots of writing and little gets written.  More is telegraphed.  A day is a motion once we stand to understand the posture, its significance, we're winning, I'm insistent, might have caught a glimpse of you leaning.

One thing I'm guilty of is infusing all sorts of things with meanings.  Even toes, yours, grip.  Slip a bubble, switch a bubble; swap or even invite into bubble.  The sweetest gift there is, invited into the comfort, loving maze as you weave your world, your kids.