By Honeycomb Moms
The Honeycomb moms just wouldn't be the same without the men in our lives. We had to let our partners in crime know just how much we love and appreciate them as giving contributors, dependable fathers and beautiful souls.
I'll be direct. Yes, yes and yes. Black, brown, white and purple kids alike have permission from five of the seven black moms of this blog to let your kids dress as whatever superhero they want to dress as with one hugely important contingency.
My biggest fear as a parent is that something will happen to my son that he can't recover from. I think about who he would become if he were convicted of a crime he didn't commit, if my husband or I died unexpectedly or if he were ever harmed as a result of racial profiling. My worries are just as endless as my desire to protect him, whether I'm alive or dead. I wrote this for my son.
It was June 18, the very day my son, Donovan, turned 6 months old. He, my husband, Donzell Floyd, and I were all sitting in our living room in Atlanta, Ga.
Donzell had been watching Donovan for a few hours when I decided to give the tired dad a break and take over baby care.
I started moving my things from the couch I was sitting on to the one nearest the baby’s things. I grabbed my cell phone, then laid Donovan down on the couch and sat next to him.