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Roz Symon

Writer, Illustrator & Creative Communications Coach

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Posted on by Roz Symon

385

He came down, yet again, taller than he went to bed. Now, twenty minutes before lunchtime, my puffy eyed son is eating breakfast, ears plugged in, iPhone propped up. Smiles flitter across his face, and an occasional guffaw escapes his lips as he stares at a screen, lost in a world alien to me.

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