Forever Crush

“Mom, did you have a crush on someone when you were eight like me?” he asked, his deep blue eyes searching my face as we drove down the road. This question came on the heels of our visit to the store where we gazed at the heart shaped boxes of chocolates and talked about when it’s appropriate to give someone a love card.

“I did,” I answered. “I liked a little boy named Brandon when I was in elementary school.”

“Well, is it okay to have a little crush?” he asked. If I could bottle the innocence that hung between us, I would fill up a thousand jars.

“Sure, it’s okay to have a little crush,” I answered. “But it’s better to just stay friends. You don’t need a girlfriend for a very, very long time.”

He nodded then grinned, the bliss of puppy love washing over his face. I know who he is thinking about. I saw her chasing him on the field while they played capture the flag.

“When did you start to have a boyfriend?” he asked slyly.

“Well, I dated a couple of boys in high school, but it was never too serious. There’s no reason to get serious when you’re young.”

“And then you had crushes in college, too?”

“Yep,” I answered. “I had a couple of crushes and one boyfriend in college before I met your Daddy.”

He was 25. I was 21. *sigh*

“And then HE was your crush, right?” Tia yelled from the backseat.

“He sure was,” I answered, smiling at her big, round eyes through the rear view mirror. “And you know what?” I asked in a hushed voice.

“WHAT?!” three little voices shouted back.

“He’s still my crush today.”

“You mean you’ve never had another crush?” Sloan asked.

“Nope,” I answered. “Your Daddy is my only crush and my only boyfriend forever and ever.”

“And your only husband,” Landon piped from his seat.

“Yep. That, too.”

Always and Forever.

Happy Valentine’s Day.


“Laptop Homicide” – Part Two

We’ve all now had a few days to think about and discuss Tommy Jordan’s public response to his daughter’s Facebook rant. Once again, the internet seems divided to the extreme on an issue, this time the issue being parenting. On one side we have all those who wholeheartedly support Mr. Jordan’s dramatic response. These people hail him as a hero and a role model for excellence in parenting.

On the other side, we have the group that hollers for his Dad card to be revoked. They’re calling social services and the police (who’ve both come out and have applauded him for sticking to his guns…pun intended) and they all apparently have some kind of degree in psychology because they’re positive that his daughter’s rant was a plea for help due to what could only be a lifetime of emotional trauma suffered at the hands of her cowboy dad.

And then there is the group smack dab in the middle who are looking at this thing a bit more pragmatically and, dare I say, sensibly?

I had to laugh out loud at some of the posts railing against this father’s actions. One woman asserted that his daughter clearly felt used and if she didn’t want to make her bed then why make her to do such inexplicable task. Why not just do the chores for her in an effort to salvage the relationship?

Um…really?

Listen, parenting is hard. We all know that. There is no guidebook on how to do it and just when you think you’ve got it figured out, your next child comes along with a completely different personality and throws you a curve ball. Or the child you thought you had nailed grows and develops a little and you’re back at square one with learning how to deal with that particular child.

I have three children, all with completely different personalities. My oldest needs constant reminders and complete consistency in discipline. He needs detailed explanations regarding rules and consequences and usually needs to be explained “why” more than once.

My middle child has to be watched like a hawk because she breaks rules so quietly that half the time we miss it completely. She needs swift consequences but doesn’t want to talk about it. She likes to work things out internally and we have to give her the space to do that.

My youngest child is incredibly soft-hearted and can be broken with just a stare. He needs to be held close when given instruction and consequences have to be given much more gently than with the other two because his heart breaks easily. With just a stare from his daddy, he is prone to crumple in a heap of tears.

They’re all different and I know exactly what each needs in order to effectively learn. Does this mean I always deal with all of them appropriately? No. Sometimes I speak too harshly with my third born, sometimes I talk too much to my second born and sometimes I expect too much of my first born. I don’t parent right all the time, but I know what needs to be done to reach my kids.

I don’t agree with how Tommy Jordan responded to his daughter. I thought it was a bad idea to post something like that on the internet. But here’s the kicker – Tommy Jordan doesn’t agree with his own reaction, either. In hindsight, he wouldn’t do it that way.

Post the video, that is.

I have a feeling he’d still shoot the laptop and I honestly don’t have a problem with that. Could he have donated it? Yes. But I have a feeling that Mr. Jordan knew exactly what his daughter needed to understand how serious he was.

Because I think he knows his daughter better than I do.

I don’t fault Mr. Jordan for wanting to post his feelings about her note publicly. In fact, I think that’s a smart move. I’ve told my children before that if they embarrass me in public they can expect to be embarrassed right back. What I mean when I say this is I will verbally correct them in front of everyone watching if needed. Perhaps Mr. Jordan would have been better served to answer her note a bit more gracefully, but I wouldn’t fault him for posting it in the same medium she did.

That’s effective, if you ask me.  You did ask, right?

In the end, I respect Mr. Jordan in a lot of ways. He made a foolish choice and it will follow him forever. He reacted in anger, which never produces good results and he had to suffer his own consequences for his actions. But, instead of letting his daughter take the blame for what happened, he is taking the heat himself and in so doing, is modeling grace to his daughter.

I also respect the fact that he’s resisting the urge to jump into the mainstream spotlight for the sole reason that he wants to protect his daughter’s privacy. He himself has said that he doesn’t want to profit from the embarrassment this has been for his daughter and I respect him for that. He is handling the fall out from his poor decision wisely and in the end I think his daughter will learn more from that than she will from the consequences he has laid down for her.

I think there are a lot of things that we, as parents, can learn from this video. It opens up a great discussion on parenting with grace while also revealing some gaps in our society. The fact is, many children do feel entitled and they do believe that the world owes them something.

How else do you explain the Occupy Wall Street Movement?

If more parents were willing to stand up and say no, I won’t give you a free pass and yes, despite the fact that it seems inane and unnecessary, you will still make your bed, then maybe more children would leave home ready and prepared for the rigors of adulthood. We live in a society that says if you want it, you can have it (I believe this idea in and of itself to be riddled with faults, FYI). Once upon a time, though, it was understood that you had to work for what you wanted (whatever it was that was desired).

These days, though, there’s a frightening and pervasive thought that if you want it you can have it. Just wait awhile and let it come to you, or see if someone will give it to you.

As parents we cannot do this to our children. Parent with grace. Love your children gently. Teach them right from wrong decisively. And please…don’t judge one another.

Thoughts?

“Laptop Homicide” – A Post on Discipline

There’s a new viral video in town, perhaps you’ve seen it?

In this video, a frustrated and angry father uses tough love to address his daughter’s immature rant against her parents on Facebook. Throughout the reading of her note you can hear his voice quaver and shake, a likely mixture of extreme anger, throbbing hurt and deep disappointment.

His daughter had done this before and had suffered consequences for it, but apparently they didn’t stick. So for all 452 of her friends to see, she essentially called her parents jailors, slave drivers and harsh, unloving lords over what she deemed was an unfair lack of freedom.

At the end of the video, the father stands up and points to his daughter’s laptop sitting in the grass, which, as he had earlier explained, he had just the day before spent $130 cleaning up and loading with new software. He then pulls out a pistol and proceeds to put 9 bullets through her laptop, a definitive sign that when he said the consequences the second time around would be worse, he actually meant it.

Parenting at its best? Or at its worst?

For those who immediately jump to conclusions that this man is obviously disturbed and he has forever and irreparably damaged his relationship with his daughter, just hold onto your judgement for a second and read this from Tommy Jordan, the father in question (this was taken from his Facebook page and is his response to questions from a reporter named Anita Li of the Toronto Star):

Q: Why did you decide to reprimand your daughter over a public medium like YouTube?

A: Well, I actually just had to load the video file itself on YouTube because it’s a better upload process than Facebook, but the intended audience was her Facebook friends and the parents of those friends who saw her post and would naturally assume we let our children get away with something like that. So, to answer “Why did you reprimand her over a public medium like Facebook” my answer is this: Because that’s how I was raised. If I did something embarrassing to my parents in public (such as a grocery store) I got my tail tore up right there in front of God and everyone, right there in the store. I put the reprisal in exactly the same medium she did, in the exact same manner. Her post went out to about 452 people. Mine went out to about 550 people… originally. I had no idea it would become what it did.

Q: How did your daughter respond to the video and to what happened to her laptop?

A: She responded to the video with “I can’t believe you shot my computer!” That was the first thing she said when she found out about it. Then we sat and we talked for quite a long while on the back patio about the things she did, the things I did in response, etc.

Later after she’d had time to process it and I’d had time to process her thoughts on the matters we discussed, we were back to a semi-truce… you know that uncomfortable moment when you’re in the kitchen with your child after an argument and you’re both waiting to see which one’s going to cave in and resume normal conversation first? Yeah, that moment. I told her about the video response and about it going viral and about the consequences it could have on our family for the next couple of days and asked if she wanted to see some of the comments people had made. After the first few hundred comments, she was astounded with the responses.

We agreed we learned two collective lessons from this so far:

First: As her father, I’ll definitely do what I say I will, both positive and negative and she can depend on that. She no longer has any doubt about that.

Second: We have always told her what you put online can affect you forever. Years later a single Facebook/MySpace/Twitter comment can affect her eligibility for a good job and can even get her fired from a job she already has. She’s seen first-hand through this video the worst possible scenario that can happen. One post, made by her Dad, will probably follow him the rest of his life; just like those mean things she said on Facebook will stick with the people her words hurt for a long time to come. Once you put it out there, you can’t take it back, so think carefully before you use the internet to broadcast your thoughts and feelings.

This is only a small piece of his response. The rest is up for you to read if you want and for now I’m going to finish the post with a question.

Update: Tommy Jordan has posted a new note to his Facebook page and I have to say, I like a whole lot of what he says. While this man’s reaction to his daughter’s public temper tantrum is not something I agree with, I have deep respect with the way he is handling the fall out. It says more about him as a father than the short video he posted did. I hope we all won’t be so quick to judge without knowing the full story.

What are your thoughts on this situation?

I will be back next week with my own, but I’d love to hear feedback first.

Playin’ Hooky

 

February in Florida is divine.

So much so that I do believe we’re going to play hooky today and spend some time at the beach, because really…what good is home schooling in Florida if you can’t dip your toes in the ocean on a school day now and then, right?

Besides, we learned multiplication (Sloan), subtraction (Tia) and sentence diagramming (everyone) this week. I think we’ve earned a break, yes?

Happy weekending everyone!

In which I ramble a bit

You know that thing where you can’t seem to get to bed before midnight or after because you are relishing the quiet and alone time that comes with three kids nestling snug into their beds?

Yeah.

I wish I could say I was being ultra-productive with my late night down time, but that’s not necessarily the case. Last night I spent an hour reading up on diagramming sentences…for fun.

I fear the salty Florida air has gone to my head.

I’m thinking about teaching Sloan the very basics of how to diagram a sentence. My poor kids. They just don’t stand a chance in this house, do they? But I can’t help myself. I feel like learning how to diagram a sentence is a lost art and is one of the best ways to grasp grammar. I didn’t learn it until I was in college and I hated every minute of it, but it was also the first time that grammar started to make sense to me.

So today the kids are going to get a lesson on Subject and Verb, and will learn how to break up the two in a simple sentence. We are starting easy.

What are your thoughts on teaching kids to diagram sentences? Is it something you think is important?

In that same vein, are you teaching your kids how to write in cursive despite the fact that it isn’t a totally necessary skill this day in age? In general, most public schools have stopped teaching handwriting simply because kids don’t need it, but I kind of think it’s necessary, which is why I torture Sloan every Tuesday and Thursday with cursive writing practice lessons.

Changing topics slightly, I think I may have found a local Russian tutor for the kids. We are going to meet on Tuesday so she can get to know the kids and hopefully we’ll move forward from there. I can’t wait to have them practice with a native speaker again. I so desperately miss their Russian school in St. Louis.

Lee and I are taking the two older kids on our first family mission trip this summer. I am so excited about it. We are going with IsleGo Missions to Jamaica where we will likely be helping with construction of some sort (last year they built homes) and leading a VBS. My kids are going to be amazing at this – especially Sloan. God has outfitted that child with a missionary’s heart and I can’t wait to see him in his element.

I can’t think about leaving Landon behind, though, or I get incredibly sad and anxious. He will be with my parents, so I know he’ll be fine but he is such a Mama’s boy and he and Tia are pretty much joined at the hip so being away from all of us for a week is going to be hard on him.

*sad face*

Lee and I are in the midst of praying fervently about what to do school-wise for the kids next year. We have several options and all are good, but we are seeking which is best for the kids, for me and for our family dynamics as a whole.

I am headed to Blissdom in a couple of weeks, which I’m really looking forward to, but FIRST my friend Bethany is coming to visit and I’m so excited I can barely see straight. Every time I think about it, I girl squeal and clap my hands, which can be awkward in the middle of the grocery store but whatever.

MY FRIEND BETHANY IS COMING TO VISIT!

Read this blog post. It’s amazing and inspiring isn’t it?

I should go. The kids are getting restless and I need to prepare today’s lessons. Sentence diagramming here we come! This is the part where my children would likely request prayer for sanity…

Image credit

The Need to be Known

We sat in a circle, the porch lit up by a string of lights and the air around filled with youthful squeals and the unabashed laughter of little ones filled with delight. For three hours we sat and when we finally rose, my cheeks ached from the smile stretched wide.

It felt good to be known.

Perhaps the most difficult aspect of this move has been the feeling of having to put on airs. When you walk into a room full of strangers, the natural reaction is to put on a smile and those people aren’t going to know if my smile is fake or not because they don’t know me. It’s not their fault. It just takes time to get to know someone.

But this golden lit circle of people was not a group of strangers. They were family. My aunt and uncle and cousins. The people we vacationed with growing up. We’ve watched one another get married, rejoiced in babies born, mourned in loss.

There is just something comforting and familiar about family. Though I haven’t lived in the same state as my cousins since we were all in diapers, we still hold fast to the bond of family that seals us together. We know each other. We’ve traveled roads together that no one can understand. We experienced heartache and joy that binds us tight and holds us fast.

On the 21st anniversary of one of the deepest hurts our family experienced, we gathered. We didn’t plan the gathering on this specific day – it just happened. And we laughed and loved and relished in one another. Many were missing, and how I wished they all could have been there, but for Lee and I the meeting was perfect. We needed to laugh. We needed family.

Sitting with them late into the night, Lee and I didn’t have to pretend and my family didn’t expect a mediocre answer. When they asked how we were doing, we told them. This is hard. Moving is stressful in a lot of ways and the last six months have been the most trying of our entire married life.

It was cathartic to share – to be able to open up and be honest. The rest of the evening was spent laughing…hard.

Our kids ran around, screaming and shrieking, delighting in one another the way my cousins and I did when we were little. It was so good and so sweet to be known. Like walking through a fountain after traveling the desert. Refreshing and cool, Lee and I came home rejoicing.

And tonight, as two teams I didn’t care about played for a title that meant nothing to me (I just broke some hearts…I’m sorry), we talked and laughed with friends. New friends who, over the last few weeks, have allowed us to open our hearts and share and laugh and cry, and old friends who not only know us from back home, but who also know well the path we’re on right now.

They’re on it too.

I have asthma and on the days when breathing in is just a little more difficult, I always relish in that one moment when I’m finally able to fill my lungs fully. My head spins a little and the panic that has begun to well up dissolves as I can finally take a much needed deep breath and I can actually feel the oxygen circulating through my body.

This weekend was a deep breath. It was needed and we drew it in deep.

My head is still spinning a little.

Six

Beautiful

Sweet

Silly

Sassy

Athletic

Fearless

Mine

Her daddy thinks we ought to ship her off to a convent in northern Iceland. I would tend to agree.

We might be in trouble with this one.

On her third birthday I told her everything I wanted her to know as she grew.

For her fifth birthday I made a video celebrating her.

Oh how she deserves to be celebrated.

The lone female, sandwiched between all that male.

And today she is six.

Happy Birthday, Katya Rose.

Yes. Pick me. I’ll Go.

Comments now closed. The lucky winner is Emily! Emily I sent you and email. Send me your address and I will get the book in the mail ASAP. Thanks everyone for entering. Now go buy the book!

I’m currently nearly finished reading Kisses from Katie and I can barely contain the tears that have been flowing since I opened this book. Have you read it?

Why not?

“I fell in love with Uganda as soon as I arrived. After I woke up the first morning of our stay, I looked around and saw glistening bright white smiles against ebony faces; I heard happy voices, lilting language, and gentle laughter. I saw strength and depth of character in people’s eyes. I found Uganda to be a beautiful land filled with beautiful people.” Katie Davis, Kisses from Katie

Change a few adjectives and this is the exact way I would describe my feeling the first time I stepped off the plane in the former Soviet Union. It was as though a part of my soul – a piece of myself I hadn’t known existed until that moment – came alive and I would never be the same.

I am awed by Katie Davie and her willingness to say “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.” As I’ve read, I’ve found myself thinking more than once that somehow the decision she made was easier. She was young – she didn’t have anything tying her down. Of course she could just pick up and go. Of course she could say yes.

This thought is selfish at best and outright offensive at worst.

Katie was an eighteen year old Homecoming Queen with the world at her fingertips and the resources to grasp it. Instead, she “quit her life,” left everything comfortable and known – all her dreams and plans, her parents’ dreams and hopes and desires – and she moved to Uganda. Forever.

Katie Davis said “Yes.” And it was a hard “Yes.”

I am a wife with three young children. My “yes” may look different, but I have the exact same ability to say “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.” But would I mean it? Can I say it? Because honestly, the responsibilities in front of me are real, and necessary and daunting and when I think of saying “Yes, Lord. I’ll go,” my mind automatically thinks so big and so vast and I feel immediately incapable of succeeding.

I wish my “yes” could be in another country where the harsh but beautiful lilt of the Russian language filled my ears and the laughter of children in need quenched the thirst in my soul.

But that’s not where He has me right now. And I sometimes fear that maybe I long ago closed my ears, gave a resounding “No” and relinquished my ability to impact His kingdom.

Then I pull out the Math books and the history book and the Russian books and realize that I already said “Yes, Lord. I’ll go.” Every single day, as I shepherd and mold the small hearts entrusted to me, I say “Yes.” I didn’t want to home school. Honestly, most days I still don’t. But I’m supposed to. I know with all my heart that right now, at this moment, I’m where I’m supposed to be.

“Yes”.

Katie Davis’ “Yes” took her to Uganda. It made her the mother of fourteen children before she could legally drink in America. Her “Yes,” by my standards, is huge. Her “Yes” by any standards, actually, is huge. How many of us were willing to give up everything at eighteen to go serve the poorest of poor on the other wide of the world?

But guess what? We all have the ability and the obligation to say “Yes” to that which is right in front of us. My “Yes” to home schooling is not that big, especially when you take into consideration the reluctance with which I agreed. But still I said, “Yes.” Just thinking about it in these terms has renewed a passion in me for discipling my children this year while I have them home.

Consider Katie’s words: Sometimes, the everyday routine of my life feels so normal to me. At other times the idea of raising all these children seems like quite a daunting task. I realize that since I have chosen an unusual path it is easier for outsiders to look at my life and come to the conclusion that it is something extraordinary. That I am courageous. That I am strong. That I am apecial. But I am just a plain girl from Tennessee. Broken in many ways, sinful, and inadequate. Common and simply with nothing special about me. Nothing special except I chose to say “yes.” “Yes” to the things God asks of me and “yes” to the people He places in front of me. You can too. I am just an ordinary person. An ordinary person serving an extraordinay God.”

We can all say yes. We can say yes to the man on the street corner with a sign for food and a plea for help crying from his desperate eyes. Small? Not to Him and not to God.

The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” Matthew 25:40

We can take food to a neighbor in need, visit someone in a nursing home, hug a hurting friend or give out of the abundance of our resources to those who have little. “Yes” takes many forms, but we have to be willing to say it, then do it.

In the interest of giving everyone the chance to be inspired and encouraged and challenged and convicted, I have purchased a copy of Kisses from Katie to give away to one reader. Simply leave a comment for your entry. I will choose a winner randomly on Wednesday morning, February 1, at 9:00 am EST.

Mom, Interrupted

When I gave birth to my first child, more than one person commented how calm and natural I was with him. I wasn’t stressed or worried about people holding him or coming to visit. I didn’t ask people to wash their hands before picking up the baby and I didn’t fuss over his every sound and movement.

Part of that stems from the fact that I am an anti-germaphobe. Seriously, I kind of have to make myself worry about germs because honestly, that stuff just doesn’t bother me. (But I draw the line at my child licking ketchup off of a McDonald’s PlayWorld floor – which has happened. I’ll give you one guess as to which child it was.)

Part of it, though, came from the fact that motherhood did come naturally. I wasn’t fussy and worried about every little thing with my first child. From the moment he was born I felt completely at ease with being his Mom.

At least that’s what I thought, anyway.

Now that I look back on those early parenting years, I have to shake my head and chuckle at my obvious insanity.Was it obvious to every one else?

Don’t answer that.

I was Nazi Mom when it came to eating and sleeping. I had that child on such a rigid schedule that nothing was permitted to penetrate the iron walls of my control. I planned our entire day around Sloan’s eating and sleeping schedule and I refused to let anything interrupt that.

And today I have a first born who thrives on predictability. Coincidence? Doubt it.

Poor kid.

The problem with my tight little ship (yes, I know – there’s more than one problem with it) was that I was totally closed to spontaneity. I was completely uninterruptible.

If someone called and asked if I could watch their child while they ran an errand or went to the doctor, many times I hesitated. Having someone over would mess up the routine. Sweet Jesus, NOT THE ROUTINE!

As Sloan got older, and more babies came along, I loosened up a little, but I still did not love having our routine interrupted. I was also terrible about inviting other children into my home. I didn’t like it. Having to parent my child with others around made me crazy, so I avoided it.

I was so terribly selfish about my routine and schedule back then. While I often claimed to have a welcoming home, I did little to live that.

Until I met my friend Suzanne.

Suzanne was always willing to have my kids over – all three of them. Despite the fact that Tia and Landon were very young and required more time and attention, Suzanne would constantly offer to have them in her home. She picked them up for me. She fed them and played with them and loved on them. And I watched in awe at the way she allowed her day and her time to be interrupted without complaint.

My friend Bethany was equally amazing. If I had anywhere to be, she was always the first to offer to keep my kids. Even if they were sick, despite the fact that she had little ones herself, she’d wave her hand and say, “Who cares?” and urge me to bring them anyway.

Tia met her best friend, Noelle, on her first day of preschool two years ago. And I had yet another amazing example of someone willing to have their day and schedule interrupted. Noelle’s mom, Jennifer, had such a desire to foster good, healthy relationships between her children and their friends and she was rarely alone with her children. She constantly had someone else’s child with her, and Tia was one of the kids privileged to experience Jennifer’s love and grace.

Those three women weren’t the only ones who modeled to me what it meant to be interruptible. I had many, many friends show me how to be a true servant in this role called Motherhood and with each example, I found myself slowly but surely loosening the grip on my rigid schedule.

I’m still learning to be interruptible. I want my kids to know that they can invite people into our home and that I will welcome others with a warm greeting and not a frustrated sigh. I want to be willing to drop what I want to do so that I can foster and build healthy relationships for my children. I want to be Mom, Interrupted and to fill that role with a smile on my face and, every once in awhile, a plate of cookies in my hand.

I want to bless other parents and other children the way those women blessed me.

What about you? Are you interruptible?

The one where we go on a date.

I gave him a goal to start the year. A goal for my first born with a natural bent for learning, but not a love for the process. “If you finish two books before the month is over, I will take you some place extra special – just you and me.”

That’s all he needed. Motivated by encouragement and a promise, he zipped through two books in less than two weeks. Perhaps the goal was too easy, but I wanted it to be attainable. I wanted him to succeed because I wanted to reward him. And today, the reward comes to be.

Sloan and I are headed to Busch Gardens today, just the two of us. Wendy wrote a whole series of posts on dating our sons (and daughters) and every post was precious, but I was particularly fond of this one. One of our Christmas gifts from my parents was season passes to Busch Gardens and I am so excited to break in those passes with Sloan.

Of my three children, fostering a relationship with Sloan has been the most difficult journey, mainly because he and I are so very much alike in a lot of ways and so very different in other ways. Add to that the fact that he is simply getting older and he needs to be fusing more to his Dad at this time in his life, and you have a recipe for hard moments in our sometimes long days.

Sloan and I need to have some uninterrupted, do what we want, no-one-pulling-my-attention-away fun and tomorrow will be that day. The weather is going to be beautiful (seriously, I totally get why people come to Florida for the winter – it’s freaky awesome), and we are going to ride rides, play games and simply enjoy one another with no set schedule.

It’s been way too long since I dated my son.

So that’s where I am today. I’m building an altar with my cherished first born; an altar of remembrance to look back on with grace and fondness and, hopefully, a few secretive giggles. A lifetime’s worth of memories awaits us.

*happy dance*

Happy Tuesday, everyone.