Last night we were sitting around eating ice-cream, and Jonathan, our 8 year old, asks if I remember when Dianna ate her first ice-cream. I say I don't know, and ask her if she ate ice-cream in Liberia, she says "no", I cry "uncle", and Jonathan says "September 8, 2007". Then he tells me exactly where we were, and why we were there. I asked him if I could give him all 5 kid's baby books so he can update them with everyone's noteworthy accomplishments. He starts clearing the table while I pout about having to help do the dishes instead of having a maid to do them. He unplugs the toaster so the house doesn't catch on fire while I turn my music on loud and dance around the kitchen. He goes to get his pj's on
and brush his teeth so he can get plenty of good sleep and be able to wake up early to start school. I stay up late playing on the computer and wake up the next morning grouchy and irritable. I don't know how I gave birth to you Jon Jon - thanks though for always covering my back. I may not be as mature as you, but I love you!!