Law of sand

I swore to myself that I would never ever put my son's face on this site, or my own for that matter as this site was not what that was for, but I need a little happiness today.
I found out that at 38 years old, my family (a fraction of them) believe I sold my washing machine to make room for candy and cookie storage (meaning I do not wash clothes or bedsheets, meaning my son wears nothing but unwashed clothes and sleeps in nothing but unwashed sheets, meaning he looks neglectedand smells stinky and I have brain damage).

This picture is totally unrelated, it is just of a happy moment he and I had on our worst day in Hawaii. I hope he never remembers this day, or at least what happened soon after this photo was taken.
I, unfortunately, will remember it until the day I die.
I rarely get my picture taken but on those odd times I do, there is always a story that exists to some abominable darkness hidden out of frame. I would gladly have all copies of my senior picture burnt or destroyed beyond all repair.
...Perhaps when I am wealthy and have the money, I will pay my graduating class to remove my photo from the yearbook.

Never ask me the stories, I will never tell.
I am seriously trying to forget, sheesh, move on!