Well. I'm reading a series about Josephine, Napoleon Bonaparte's wife.
And there are swimming lessons. Lots of them.
And volunteering at Cub Scout camp. I almost died of little boys yelling and kicking up dust.
And sending the kids to Vacation Bible School. Michael has unfounded fears that our children learned to be Pentecostal, but they loved it. And I went running as much as I liked every day right after I dropped them off. Bliss. And as far as I know, not one of them has yet shouted out "Hallelujah!" in the middle of primary.
And my dear neighbor has a new baby. Sometimes I just go over and hold him and admire his tiny perfect toes while the neighbor's mom (who is visiting to help out) un-picks and re-sews the patches onto Seth's Cub Scout uniform because I have the fine motor skills of a naked mole rat. No offense, naked mole rats. The kids really like to look at you in the zoo, but it seems like you spend most of your lives bumbling clumsily around in your tunnels with no particular regard for your limbs or the limbs of your tunnel-mates.
At some point I'll come around and catch up. I know you are all dying to see Alice with her contraption that bakes Lilliputian cakes over a hundred watt light bulb.
