A Quote by Zac Posen
As a little boy, my mom would bake with me on the weekends - that was our time together.
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Who will cry for the little boy, lost and all alone?
Who will cry for the little boy, abandoned without his own?
Who will cry for the little boy? He cried himself to sleep.
Who will cry for the little boy? He never had for keeps.
Who will cry for the little boy? He walked the burning sand.
Who will cry for the little boy? The boy inside the man.
Who will cry for the little boy? Who knows well hurt and pain.
Who will cry for the little boy? He died and died again.
Who will cry for the little boy? A good boy he tried to be.
Who will cry for the little boy, who cries inside of me?
My mom was my muse - she would buy me Italian 'Vogue.' I was this little fashion boy.
I'm a mom, a full-time mom when I'm not taping. I do the carpool thing, and bake the cookies, and do the homework.
My sister and I would race on the weekends. It was a way for my sister, my mom and me to spend time with my dad. He worked all week and worked a lot so it was a great way for us to spend time as a family and have fun.
My mom knew Salman sir, as they grew up together in Bandra. He would often tell my mother Genievev Advani how one day he would be a star. They have been friends for the longest time and would go cycling together.
When my daughter Dixie gets out of school, I take her to ballet, soccer, or karate. Or if it's a free afternoon, we might bake together. I love our time together. There is nothing more important in my life than making her happy.
I have to thank my mother for this. When I was a little boy she used to teach me poems. I would go in church and tell the poems in church for the Easter program, and again for Mother's Day and any occasion she felt would fit. I was very energetic with delivery at that time as a boy, so it stuck with me.
A part of me understands why a mother is equally proud of all her children, but that little boy inside me just wants my mom to say, out loud but even just to me, 'I'm a little bit prouder of you.'
I was remembering the things we had done together, the times we had had. It would have been pleasant to preserve that comradeship in the days that came after. Pleasant, but alas, impossible. That which had brought us together had gone, and now our paths diverged, according to our natures and needs. We would meet again, from time to time, but always a little more as strangers; until perhaps at last, as old men with only memories left, we could sit together and try to share them.
To my mom, I don't know how to describe my mom. She is the most wonderful person in my life. She gave me love. She took me to the ballpark when I was just a little boy running around, hanging around.
The Little Boy and the Old Man Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon." Said the old man, "I do that too." The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants." I do that too," laughed the little old man. Said the little boy, "I often cry." The old man nodded, "So do I." But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems Grown-ups don't pay attention to me." And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand. I know what you mean," said the little old man.
When I was a child, I would draw these little stick-figures, and my mom would put them up all over the loft and tell me how wonderful they were. Then you get out there into the harsh reality of the world, and you realize not everybody loves every little thing you do the way your mom did.
My friends and I would get up early and take our horses through the national forest. My mom was very free. It was always Out of the house! There was no watching television on weekends.
My friends and I would get up early and take our horses through the national forest. My mom was very free. It was always 'Out of the house!' There was no watching television on weekends.
I think anyone can bake, but I don't think I can bake well. I sort of feel like baking is just, like, chocolate and butter and sugar, and that is always nice, so I think anyone can bake, you can put those things together, and it will come out all right. The next level of that, I definitely can't do.
My parents had a gardener when I was growing up, and he and I would dig in the dirt together - my mom and dad were definitely not digging with me! When I was 5, he helped me plant some corn in our backyard, and I remember how fascinating it was to watch it grow. Little did I know that 50 years later I'd be growing corn in a different way.
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