But as it is, we're all okay. Store's the store. Up and down and all-around. K's job is K's job. The kids are sick or whiny or happy or charming or precocious, depending on the minute.
We love them. They love us. It's a nice thing.
This weekend, they're in our small town's Christmas parade, riding on a float with the nursery school friends. Caspian is going to be a dwarf with a bear and a toboggan hat. Annaliese is going to be Tinkerbell or Snow White, I'm not quite sure. We're going to put our tree up this week and do our best to fill our children with the magic of Christmas: I foresee cookie-making, letters to Santa, lights around the porch, the whole shebang.
We want so much to give them a great childhood.