I always find it uniquely rude that Black History month is during February, the shortest month. But I’m glad otherwise, february is not a month I love. I often debate around this time of year wether or not it’s March or February that’s the worst, darkest, and most difficult month to get through. February, being the shortest month, did not feel especially difficult to get through this year. Last February Roby was around, but she was small and the nights were long still. It was a special time, a beautiful time, but this February felt like a load of sleep overs and movie nights.

I’m not sure what next February will be like, good I bet, better perhaps. Roby might still have some of the tan she’ll get this summer. We’ve dedicated ourselves to getting her out of her clothes more often, and before summer rolls around. 

That’s how you get a better year, sunny nudity.