Since not long after I moved into this house, I have kept a journal - in Word - on my computer. Due to some messing around with computers that I've had to do to maintain a "free trial" of a certain program for work, Jay has had to dismantle my computer and hook me up to another one. I did not remember to have him give me access to the journal - and I don't actually even have Word loaded on this machine. Could I fix the situation? Yes. Could I actually (perish the thought) pick up a pen and write in a notebook? Yeah. But, I'm not. And, usually, it feels a little bit freeing not to have to keep a record of our days quite so methodically for a bit. Then there are times when I realize that if I don't write things down somewhere, they will be lost to the ages, which is especially unfair at this point to Ellie because in the last few weeks, she has figured out how to sing a perfectly angelic (and well-articulated) version of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
And then there's this: Last night as I put Ellie to bed, I asked her if she wanted to kiss 'Bud (her pink stuffed elephant) good night. She said, "yeah" (her favorite word of the week), took that little pachyderm's proboscis between her thumb and forefinger and gently bent it to find the best spot on the very tip of its trunk to plant a sweet wet kiss. I don't want to forget that kind of thing when she's 16 and stealing my car keys.
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