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I'd love to wax poetic, about how looking at this picture makes me feel, about how motherhood has changed me. I could get cliché, and moan about how time is passing too quickly, and how much that boy has changed in the four years since this was taken. But I need to get my bum to bed at a semi-decent hour for once, so all I'm going to tell you is how this photograph makes me miss my short hair with the blonde patches. And those glasses with the red frames. I'll mourn those specs forever.
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