Berit wants to take ballet, highland dance, violin and piano. Couldn't someone just make a preschool that included all of these?
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Marta has developed a fear of everything scary, even a little bit. Like, for example, Swiper from Dora. Possibly due to something I allowed her to watch because it bought me time doing something else? Probably.
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When we move into our house, would someone please have U2's Beautiful Day, or something similarly celebratory but perspective-putting, playing on our radio? I might be so giddy that I actually hang from one of the five crystal chandeliers (two of which were given to us by kind, kind people).
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Tomorrow I have to run 10 miles. In three weeks I have to run 13. Last night I ate half a jar of Nutella.
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In the past two weeks we've been in the doctor's office or radiology department at the hospital no less than seven times.
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Baby files came in from Korea last night for our consideration. Devastating, as always, to say that we're not ready yet. We need a house of our own.
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Marta can navigate our trips to town, to school, to Harbor Springs, to Meijer, to our old house, to our new house, and towards Traverse City.
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There's color on the exterior of our house.
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