Well . . . he gets where he wants to go! Can you call it “crawling?” I’m not sure . . .
See for yourself!
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The original soundtrack I had was better . . . sorry. Due to circimstances I can’t control, I had to change it! If you want the original, I can email it to you. 🙂
Before the weekend arrives, I wanted to share some of the fun we had this past weekend! (I am running a little behind this week in a lot of ways . . . )
We had a wonderful visit from my family. My parents, my sister, and my brother and his family all came to visit us in Yakima. It was really nice to have our whole family together. We had planned to get together and celebrate birthdays (Matthew and Dominic share a birthday) before Grandpa died, but we decided Grandpa would have wanted us to get together anyway.
And, boy did we celebrate! We had not one, but two birthday parties (you know us . . . any excuse for ice cream!) We celebrated Matthew’s and Dominic’s birthdays, and also Matthew’s Baptism Birthday. (He was baptized on the feast of St. Matthew, Sept. 21st) We had good, quality family time, and lots of fun playing with the kids.
We had 10 “extra” people here, but it really was fun! Crazy at times, yes, but fun! We even managed to can a batch of pears while everyone was here. (Who me? Tackle a big project at a crazy time? Not me!) 🙂 Micah loved playing with all of his cousins, and has asked for them every day since they left.
Here is Aaron with all the cousins: Left to Right: Marianne (4), Bernadette (8mo), Matthew (12mo), Micah (2) with Catherine (6) peeking over his head, Christopher (2), and Dominic (8).
We always get lots of comments about all the little blondies when we go to church together . . . gee, I wonder why?
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More good news today:
The Senate passed the Disability Diagnosis Bill. This Bill, if it also passes in the House of Representatives, would help provide better up-to-date information and support for parents who receive a prenatal diagnosis of a disability. It is supported by people on both sides of the abortion debate, but, as I understand it, is intended to provide information regarding support for families raising a child with a disability, and alternatives to abortion, including a registry for families willing to adopt these children if their birth parents do not feel they can raise them.
Click here for Patricia Baur’s full article, but here is an exerpt:
Sen. Brownback, who passionately opposes abortion, has portrayed the measure as an effort to save the lives of babies with Down syndrome. “To deny children with disabilities a chance at life will make us more insensitive, callous and jaded, and will take away from the diversity of American life,” he said in remarks on the Senate floor last week. “I don’t think this is what we were meant to do.”
I’m not sure how much impact this bill will have, but I’m encouraged by Sen. Brownback’s attitude, and encouraged that other senators agreed that it was worthwhile. It’s definitely a step in the right direction.
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I’m working on “Chapter 4,” as well as a post regarding current political issues . . . but like I said, I’m running behind on everything this week! Also, these are more difficult posts for me, and I keep running into my old nemesis: Perfectionism. I need to constantly remind myself what the Flylady says:
“The stinking thinking that we just can’t do something because we don’t have time to do it the “right” way keeps our homes and lives in clutter and CHAOS.”
I really have enjoyed writing, which has surprised me. It has been fun to share our story, and all of the responses we’ve gotten have been very encouraging. I’m just having trouble finding time recently!
So, if all of you will keep forgiving my imperfections, I will keep posting. I can do anything . . . 15 minutes at a time. Thanks, Flylady!
My grandfather, Paul Widhalm, went Home today.
It’s hard to know what to say – how do you summarize a life . . . a man . . . in a few words?
He was an incredible man. An example of faith. He prayed often, and he prayed loudly. Whenever we were at the farm, we went to sleep to the sound of Grandma and Grandpa saying their evening prayers together. He trusted God with everything, he believed in the power of prayer, and lived his life as an example of following Christ.
He was such an example of love. His marriage to my grandma was everything I could hope my own marriage will be. His devotion to her was unwavering. They still celebrated the anniversary of their first date – close to 70 years later! They were more in love than anyone I know, and embodied “the two becoming one.” We always knew one would be so lost without the other. The last day he was awake in the hospital, he held my grandma’s hand the entire day. That is what I want my marriage to look like 60 years from now!
And, he was so generous. He once told me about a time he gave $1 to a man on the street who said he “needed a drink.” He told me, “God didn’t say tuh judge ‘im, He just said, ‘Give!'” I think of that often. God just said, “Give!” And, Grandpa gave. A lot.
Even though he had over 40 grandchildren, he had a way of always making me feel special. He called me his “buddy,” and he was mine. We would both cry out “Buddy!” as I ran to him to get my big, tight, long bear-hug. You never had to wonder if he loved you.
He loved babies – the littler, the better. So, we took Micah out as soon as we could (4 months old), and Matthew out to visit when he was only 2 months old. Both times, Grandpa held the baby the entire time. But, this time when we went to visit, Grandpa was only able to hold Matthew for feedings, but seemed to really enjoy the time snuggling him:
Summer of 2005 – I was pregnant with Micah:
Grandpa playing with Micah (4 months old):
He was a very, very special grandfather, and I am blessed to have him as an example of faith, love, and generosity. He was able to live his entire life on the farm, which is what he wanted. He would not have done well in a nursing home or assisted living – the farm was his home. His last week was in the hospital, where we found out his lung cancer had spread to his spine. He was comfortable and surrounded by family when he peacefully closed his eyes and passed away. We have no doubt he is in the Father’s arms right now.
Please pray for my grandmother, Evonne. Also, for their 8 children and their families.
We had such a wonderful evening celebrating Matthew’s birthday. The weather was beautiful, and our backyard was full of our close friends and family. If we counted correctly, we had 40 people here helping us celebrate (21 adults, 7 “big kids,” and 12 three-and-under!) All the kids had fun playing on the lawn, and we really enjoyed visiting with everyone. Both the boys took great naps that day, so they were in good spirits and had a great time with all the excitement. Matthew did everything he was supposed to do with his chocolate cupcake, as you can see from the pictures!
Thank you to everyone for coming out and helping us celebrate! Thank you, especially to all who helped the evening go as smoothly as it did. We really had a great time, and we love you all!
I’m trying the “gallery” mode for sharing pictures – hopefully you will be able to click on the thumbnails at the bottom of the page to see the full images.
Here they are! Pictures from Matthew’s birthday party:
Skipping ahead a few chapters . . . .
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Dr. Anderson’s eyes were gentle and sad as he discussed Matthew’s prognosis with us. Aaron and I both swallowed hard and managed to nod through our tears as we held our little Matthew, too weak to cry and too weak to eat. At only 4lbs, 11oz and a tiny 12 inches long, the blanket almost felt empty.
Earlier I had asked one of the other doctors how we would feed him at home since he wouldn’t take a bottle and wouldn’t latch on to nurse. He said, “Sometimes with babies like this we don’t. We find that they drift off into a comfortable sleep and then pass away within the week.” I was shocked at his suggestion. I simply could not bear the thought of Matthew suffering starvation and dehydration, and insisted that we place an nasogastric (NG) tube to give him nourishment. After only 2 small feeding via the NG tube, he was able to take milk from a bottle and the tube was removed. “See?” I thought to myself, “He just needed a little help getting started.”
We brought our tiny, frail new baby home. We couldn’t wait to get him away from the bright lights and loud beeps of the NICU. We would love him and keep him as comfortable as possible for as long as we had him. Even though we were glad to be leaving the hospital, we were more than a little nervous as we left, armed with a supply of NG tubes, morphine to give him when he started having respiratory distress from his heart failure, and a myriad of other various medical supplies and instructions.
We never imagined we would be here today celebrating his first birthday.
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Matthew,
You are incredible.
Your daddy and I are so proud of you, and all that you have done this past year. You have been through more in one short year than some people go through in a lifetime. You are a tough little guy – stronger than anyone I know.
I love sharing your story. You are an inspiration to many, and bring hope where there is none. You have touched more people than you or I will ever know.
You light up a room with your smile. Even strangers, who know nothing about you, are drawn to you. Everyone notices what a beautiful baby you are, and comments on your incredibly deep blue eyes and your wild-man blonde hair – but it’s more than that. People can tell there is something very special about you.
And, there is something very special about you – more than just your miraculous physical healing and incredible developmental strides. It’s something that is difficult to describe . . . until someone holds you. Then they “get it.” It’s something about your sweetness, your innocence, and the affection you show people. It’s the light in your eyes. It’s your pure joy and your sense of humor. I love hearing you laugh, and no one makes you laugh the way Micah can. Between you and your brother, I laugh more now than ever have!
I love how little you still are. I love that you’ve been small and cuddly for so long. I love all the “baby stuff.” But, I also love celebrating each milestone with you. I love seeing you take pride in your accomplishments and clap your hands “hurray!” when you’ve done a good job. I love that you are just as proud of Micah’s accomplishements as you are of yourself. (Today, you gave Micah a huge smile and an unprompted “hurray!” when he did a summer-sault. Then, again later when he burped.)
You have brought such joy into our lives. I love you so very, very much, and I really am blessed to be your Mommy. I wouldn’t change you for the world. But, you have already changed us for the better, and I know that you will continue to do so for a long time.
Today we celebrate you. All that you are, all that you’ve been through already, and all that you will become. You are our Matthew – our “Gift from God,” and we are thankful beyond words for the gift that you are.
Continuing to tell the “whole story,” here is Chapter 3:
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I barely remember the summer of 2007. I know that we spent June and July in a kind of fog, mourning the loss of our baby. We literally grieved him as if he were dead. It is difficult to describe the overwhelming sense of loss combined with the surreal feeling of the baby still kicking and moving inside my growing tummy.
We were so overwhelmed by the love and support of our friends and family during that time. Everyone we knew, and many others that we’d never met, were praying for us and for our tiny baby. I truly felt physically and emotionally supported. The feeling was as real if a strong man’s hands were holding me up at and at the same time holding me against a comforting shoulder – and without that, I never would have been able to get out of bed every day and take care of myself and Micah. I don’t know how Aaron kept going to work each day, except that those strong hands were supporting him, too.
“We need to name him,” I said to Aaron just a couple days after we found out “he” was dying. “I want him to have a name before he dies.” I wanted a name to remember him by – a name to give to our little soul that would be waiting in heaven for us. And, I wanted to tell everyone his name – so that they would know him and have a specific name to pray for.
Previous discussions of names had been difficult – Aaron and I generally had a tough time finding one we could agree on. Usual discussions went something like this:
“How about Gabriel? I really like the name Gabriel.” I would start.
“No, my grandparents had a dog named Gabe. What about Alex?”
“Hmm, I kind of like Alexander.”
“Not Alexander! Just Alex. But NOT Alexander!”
“Oh. I would want it to be the whole name. Michael?” I would suggest.
“Too common. Besides, didn’t YOU have a dog named Mike?”
“Yeah. He was a good dog, though. Not smart, but very cuddly.”
“Um. . . we do already have a boy named Micah. Micah and Michael could get confusing.
“Oh yeah. It’s a great name, though. I do really like those ‘M’ names. Sorry – my brain sometimes does weird things when I’m pregnant.”
“Which is why you should let ME name the baby!”
“Nice try, mister. I’m not having a Darth Vawter.”
This would generally go on until we were both out of options, then we would campaign for our favorites despite the other’s objections.
But this time was very, very different.
“Do you have an idea of what you’d like to name him?” Aaron asked.
“I think maybe he’s my Matthew.”
“O.k. He’s our Matthew. . . . Hi there, little Matthew,” Aaron said, gazing at my tummy. “Sorry about all of this, little guy. You don’t deserve any of it.”
We had discussed the name Matthew in the past, many times. You see, it was one of my favorite names. I love St. Matthew, I love the way it sounds, and I love that it means “Gift from God.” But, it wasn’t one of Aaron’s favorite names. He didn’t mind it – he thought it was a good name, but he wasn’t a big fan of the nick-name “Matt,” mainly because it is a pretty common name. We did know a lot of people named Matt – but they were all really great people! We also weren’t sure we wanted to start the “M” trend with our children. But, none of those things were going to matter with this baby. He would be our Matthew, and he would be in heaven.
Most people think that Matthew’s middle name, Nicholas, is for Saint Nicholas – the patron saint of children. (Think Jolly ol’ St. Nick). And, it is . . . in part. But, Matthew’s middle name is primarily for the lesser-known Saint Nicholas of Tolentino (click here), who is the patron saint of babies and dying people. (It just seemed to fit at the time.) What caught my attention about Saint Nicholas, though, was his reputation for being a “wonder-worker.” He spent his life caring for the sick and dying, and was known for many miraculous healings, especially of children. He is even reported to have resurrected many children who had died! I knew Matthew needed a miracle, so having St. Nicholas on board would help.
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How we felt during all of this is the most difficult part of our our journey for me to describe. Maybe it is because I think I need to tell you why we felt a certain way – but I don’t always know why. This is one of those times. After a couple weeks, we had a great peace about the whole thing. Yes, we grieved, but we were at peace with the situation. We knew that our baby would go straight into God’s hands. We were grateful that the diagnosis was so clear – we were thankful that we wouldn’t have to make any “tough calls” medially. It was very clear – he had no chance of survival, so we would choose comfort care only. If I didn’t miscarry him, we would be able to have him in Yakima, close to friends and family, because we wouldn’t be needing extensive medical care. The doctors in Yakima could keep him comfortable. And we would be o.k. – we had those strong hands holding us up, and we were at peace.
I didn’t know where we would bury him, though. That was going to be tough.
Matthew had an evaluation at Children’s Village today to see if he would benefit from any of their services. They offer speech, physical, and occupational therapy, along with all kinds of great services for kids with special needs. The therapists were wonderful, and evaluated Matthew on everything from motor skills, cognitive abilities, and social skills to his ablility to eat and chew food.
. . . and he did great!
They scored his abilities like most standardized tests. Matthew was compared to thousands of “normal” (read: healthy kids with no chromosomal abnormalities) 12-month-olds. Anything within one standard deviation of the 50th percentile is considered “normal.”
Matthew scored “Normal” or “Above normal” in EVERY CATEGORY except motor skills. His cognitive abilities, problem solving, social interactions . . . everything except motor skills . . . were “Normal” – meaning right on-track with kids who don’t have Down syndrome or heart problems!
The therapists were very impressed with our little Matthew – with how well he is doing and how far he has come in such a short time. They complimented his progress since surgery, and his ability to learn quickly. We knew he was doing well, but it’s nice to have “doing well” qualified and confirmed by the experts. And, I’m not sure we realized he was doing that well!
Matthew, your Mommy and Daddy are so proud of you!
We will start some physical therapy sessions every-other-week to help work on his motor skills. The therapists said that some of his delay is due to the fact that he is just a tiny little guy – his hands are still just too small to do some of the things they look for, and he’ll need to build some muscle-mass . . . but I’m looking forward to learning how to better help him with these things.
And, yes – we’re still talking about the same baby – the one that was given a 0% chance of survival!
What I remember most about our first appointment at Seattle Children’s Hospital is the word, “And.”
Our appointments there were divided into 2 separate days – genetic counselors and perinatologists on Wednesday, and pediatric cardiologists with fetal echocardiogram on Friday. We met with the genetic counselor, who went over our “risk factors.” It turns out, we really didn’t have any, but she strongly encouraged an amniocentecis anyway.
Now, you have to understand that being strongly pro-life, I had always been very much against prenatal testing, with the amniocentecis being the biggest evil of them all. “Quad screens” are so inacurate, that they lead to many terrified women going through an unnecessary amniocentecis procedure – a procedure that is deemed “safe,” but is a procedure nonetheless and is not without risk. And, what do you do with the results of an amnio? You basically have two choices: to abort or not to abort. In my mind, amniocentesis was responsible for many, many abortions. I, Amy Vawter, would never have an amnio, and I told the genetic counselor so.
Then came a very long, very detailed ultrasound. When the doctors sat down with us to discuss their findings, it felt as though a bomb was dropped right in our laps.
And they kept saying, “and.”
We sat in silent shock as the doctors outlined one very major problem . . . then said “and” . . . and discussed the details of a completely different but every bit as major a problem. I just wanted them to stop. Stop saying “and.” That’s enough.
Our baby had:
and
and
and
and
and
and
They were quick to offer an abortion. When we said, “no,” they recommended an amnio. Why? Because then we would “know.” I didn’t see why it mattered at this point – this poor little guy had so much stacked against him, what difference did his chromosomes make? They said if he lived to be born, (which was unlikely,) we could have some tough decisions to make. Through my tears, I managed to communicate that I still didn’t want an amnio. It just didn’t feel right. I didn’t believe in amniocentesis, remember?
Then the doctor explained more about why we might need to “know.” She said babies like this often require heart surgery or other major interventions immediately after birth. At this point, it looked like he had a “syndrome,” but they couldn’t tell for sure, and they really didn’t know if it was Down syndrome or another trisomy. If his chromosomes were normal, his prognosis would be much better and he would be more likely to do well with surgery, whereas if he had Down syndrome he might struggle more. If he happened to have another trisomy, such as trisomy 18, he would not have any chance of survival whatsoever, and we would probably want to choose comfort care over surgical options. There could be decisions to make right away, doctors and surgeons might need to know right away, and results of chromosomal tests can take up to a week. We might need to know.
After Aaron and I had a chance to talk alone, I reluctantly agreed to the procedure. I had come to see that “knowing” wasn’t just for our benefit or our own peace of mind, but could actually be a key piece of knowledge in making the best medical decisions for our child. I would never have an amnio just for me, but I could do it if the benefits for the baby outweighed the risks. (This was the first of my “hard and fast rules” that I broke with Matthew, but it wouldn’t be the last.) They could do the amnio that afternoon, and we might even have preliminary results by Friday when we met with the cardiologists.
Aaron left the room while they prepared me for the surgery. While he was gone, they reminded me that this was “my body, my decision,” and that I should go ahead with an abortion if that’s what I wanted to do. After all, I was the mother, and I shouldn’t let my dear, faithful, and loving husband – the baby’s father – influence my decision if it wasn’t what I wanted.
I cried silent tears through the whole procedure.
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We took Micah to the zoo on Thursday. I think he had fun looking at the animals while Aaron and I walked around in a shocked fog.
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Friday’s appointment with the pediatric cardiologists revealed our baby had heart defects that were more complex than any I had ever heard of, including a “Complete atrioventricular canal defect” (See the “heart stuff” page, but basically a huge ASD, a huge VSD, with the mitral and tricuspid valves fused into one common, leaky valve) A hypoplastic left heart, and a gross coarctation of the aorta.
By the time the doctor had given us a diagram of his heart, outlining all the problems, the picture didn’t even look like a heart anymore.
The cardiologist then began to outline the series of 4 open-heart surgeries that would attempt to fix this little, broken heart. The first surgery would have to take place within his 1st week of life to re-build his aorta. As soon as he recovered from that, they would begin the process of surgically designing his heart to function off one, single ventricle – which would take 3 more open-heart surgeries. The prognosis? Not good. Especially bad if he had Down syndrome. We asked for numbers, and were told that there had been 10 or so babies with hypoplastic left heart and Down syndrome at Children’s in the last 8 years. None of those kids made it. The surgeries might extend his life by 2-3 years, but they had not had any success beyond that. And those were kids without the aorta and canal problems.
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As we were driving home that afternoon, the call came. The preliminary amnio results were back. Down syndrome. That’s when Aaron lost it. My strong husband was a weeping mess, and had to pull over. We both cried and hugged, and cried some more while Micah slept through it all in the back seat. I drove the rest of the way home, where we began the painful process of calling friends and family members to give them the news – our baby was not going to live.
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Sometime the next week the phone rang.
“I called to let you know that the final results of the amniocentisis are in. It’s a boy, and he definitely has Down syndrome.”
“Thank you.” (What else do you say?)
“It’s not too late to perform an abortion. There’s really no need for you to go through the rest of this pregnancy if you don’t want to.”
“No. No abortion.”
“I know you have moral objections to abortions, but we could schedule you for an early induction if you want to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if we induce labor within the next couple weeks, the baby would be too young to survive but you wouldn’t have to endure the rest of this pregnancy.”
“That’s the same thing. No thanks.”
“Well, we should probably see you again in 8 weeks for follow-up then.”
This blog really starts in the middle of our story. I have had some requests to tell the “whole story,” and although I would have to write a book in order to do that, I will try to fill in some of the gaps. As Matthew’s first birthday approaches, I find myself reminiscing about “the beginning,” and I do want to write down these memories before I forget any more of the details. (Someday, I just might write that book, so if you have any of your own memories to share or if I leave out something, please share them in a comment!)
Chapter 1:
Matthew was a surprise from the beginning . . . the very beginning. Aaron and I wanted to have another child in the not-too-distant future, but we were planning on waiting at least a few more months. It seemed like Micah, our 14-month-old, had just started sleeping through the night, and I was enjoying being back in “skinny clothes” for a little while.
I handed Aaron the “positive” pregnancy test with a hesitant smile – not sure what his reaction would be. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I do know that he grinned from ear to ear, whooped with glee, scooped me up and spun me around the room before carefully putting me down and asking seriously, “Are you feeling alright?”
Aaron was in the middle of his first year of family-practice residency, and it wasn’t easy. He worked long, hard hours, and had to catch up on rest when he did come home. (Micah’s first sentence was, “Dada go bye-bye. Dada go night-night!”) But, we were dreading the second year, as we had been told that it was even more difficult, with even more hours and a few out-of-town rotations. That is one reason we weren’t planning on having #2 just yet, but I remember thinking, “God must want this baby. If we waited a few more months, it wouldn’t be this particular baby. This must be a special baby, a true gift from God.”
However, we had no idea just how difficult that second year of Aaron’s residency would be.
There was nothing unusual about the first part of my pregnancy. With Aaron being a physician and my training as a Physician Assistant, along with this being our second child, we had this thing down. We refused the early screening blood tests, partially because we knew that they are terrible tests (the “quad screen” is falsely positive 95% of the time!), and partially because we would never choose to abort our child, no matter what. We did do our own ultrasound to get a sneak-peek at our baby’s gender, though, and discovered we were having another boy.
The thought that this baby was anything but perfect and healthy never even crossed our minds. It should have, since we are both in the medical profession and see sick babies all the time . . . but it didn’t. Aaron didn’t even come with me to my 20-week ultrasound because he needed to save his sick time for when the baby was born. Besides, I was fine – we’d done this before.
The ultrasonographer didn’t say much at all. I had taken Micah with me to the appointment because my babysitter was busy that morning, and he did great . . . for the first 20 minutes. After that, he got restless and started fussing and complaining a little bit. The tech still didn’t say anything – I thought maybe she was having a bad day . . . and started to wonder if Micah was bothering her. She was sure taking a long time. Pretty soon she left, and returned with a nurse who took Micah by the hand and asked if he wanted some animal cookies. The ultrasonographer continued silently and I thought, “So that was it – she doesn’t like little kids. She is sure in a strange profession then – she looks at little babies all day long! Man, she sure is slow, though.” She left again, and returned with my obstetrician. That’s the first time I thought, “uh-oh.”
Dr. Harrington studied the ultrasound pictures, and was so kind as he explained that they could only see 3 chambers in our little boy’s heart. There were 2 clear bottom chambers, but it looked like only 1 top chamber. But his eyes were so sad, like he knew more than he was telling me. He called Aaron at work to explain the problem, and set us up to see the specialists in Seattle.
I’m not sure why I wasn’t too worried at first. I guess I thought it would be better to wait until we had all the information before we wasted time and energy worrying. But, As Aaron and I talked later, he seemed much more upset and worried than I was. “Maybe she’s just a bad ultrasonographer and couldn’t see the chambers very well. She did say he was really active and squirming around a lot.”
“Yeah maybe.”
“Maybe it’s just a big ASD. Those sometimes close on their own, and if not, it’s just one surgery to repair it. He still has 20 weeks to grow!”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“We really don’t know anything yet. We’ll find out what’s really going on when we go to Seattle.”
“I know. I just hope it’s just a heart defect.”
“What do you mean, ‘just a heart defect?'” Now he was borrowing trouble and starting to upset me. “They didn’t say anything about anything else – and besides, isn’t a heart defect bad enough?”
“Sorry. I just can’t help thinking about all the things that are associated with these kinds of heart defects.”
“Like what?”
“Chromosomal abnormalities.”
“Oh.” I knew that. But, since Dr. Harrington hadn’t said anything about any other problems – he hadn’t mentioned shortened long bones or missing nasal bone, or any other “markers” for anything. Don’t they see those things on the ultrasound? There was that sad look he had on his face, though – like he knew more than he was telling us.
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Chapter 2 will be coming soon
We had a wonderful time visiting Aaron in Seattle this week. Since Aaron had Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday off, we got to spend a lot of time together as a family, and had so much fun! We went to the zoo and the aquarium, and Micah has not stopped talking about either one since! He made lots of friends, especially at the aquarium, because he talks to EVERYONE, and talks A LOT! (Gee, where does he get that from?)
He was telling everyone, “LOOK! There are FISH in there! See, people? See the fish? Don’t swim in there. That’s fish water!”
We’re glad we have kids so that we can go to all these fun places, too. 🙂
. . . .
One more “Micah funny”:
We got some junk mail today that had some Disney stickers, which I gave to Micah. He was very excited, and said, “What did the Mail Man bring me?”
“Stickers! The Mail Man brought you stickers! Those are way better than bills, aren’t they?” I answered.
He said, “Did Bill get stickers, too?”
Matthew Nicholas Vawter 