Our fearless leaderish one is spending time with family-sorts, up close and personal. She is doing well, recharging her battery (as all cyborgs must on occasion), and will rejoin us, I suspect, when school starts back up and she needs to fill the void all us moms feel when the not-so-wee (in her case) ones’ winter break comes to an end.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.

I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, but I know I want it to be spelled right and punctuated correctly. I guess that’s something.