Thursday, November 17, 2011


Last night, Willow couldn't sleep.  She lay in her crib talking to herself for an hour (and got up an hour early this morning to boot).

What was she talking about?  Volcanoes and airplanes and Grandma and Grandpa and Auntie Hannah and Hawaii.  For the past couple of weeks, it's been "Volcano?"  "Yes, we're going to Volcano."  "See one tomorrow."  "No, my dear, not tomorrow, but soon."

It's tough when your only concepts of the future are "later" and "tomorrow."  But finally, tomorrow is here (though how she knew that, I don't know, because I've stopped talking about the trip since she's freaking out so much).  And thank God, because otherwise I think she'd explode. 

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