Unconditional patience

I love my children no matter what.

But I do not have patience no matter what.

That's what grandparents are for.

Thank goodness they're coming!

Our turkey will be yummier than your turkey

David's class put together a Thanksgiving recipe book.

This is David's recipe for cooking a turkey, as dictated to his teacher.

Dad and Grandpa's Turkey

By David H.

Dad is a turkey hunter.  He has a big gun.  He shoots the turkey.  Then he takes off the feathers and makes a little hole to get out all the blood.  Then he brings it to our house for grandpa to grill.  It's a little big, so grandpa cuts the sides off.


To grill the turkey:
Put 40 sprinkles of cinnamon on the turkey; that's the special ingredient.  Cook it on the grill for 60 minutes.  The grill is 11 degrees hot so the turkey doesn't catch on fire.  It's done when it has a lot of black lines on it.  Use a special glove to take it off the grill.  Cut it with a big fork.  It's very yummy!



(All of the children's recipes were funny/sweet/cute.  But David was the only one who managed to include guns and blood in his.)

Artist in residence

On Friday I put Mary down for a nap.

Ten minutes later she was doing this:

Why do my children not understand that nap means SLEEP? Or least STAY IN YOUR ROOM AND LEAVE YOUR MOM ALONE? Since when does nap mean PAINT?

As you can see, she was very happy.

Yes, Mary has a new found love.

She also has quite the attitude to go along with it. Mary informed us that while she is painting we

1. May not talk because she is concentrating.
2. Must keep both of our hands behind our backs at all times.

She's a real tyrant, that one.

But she was a blissful tyrant all weekend, as long as a paint brush was in her hand.

Our house has been flooded with works of art.

Including art on the carpet and art on the walls.

Guess who's the tyrant now.

Birch trees

David's school year began with a unit on trees. (This unit led to a successful family nature walk and the best field trip ever.)

During the course of this unit, David discovered a deep and abiding love for conifers. He points them out to us with the same level of enthusiasm as when he sees a crawler crane in action. (That's a lot of enthusiasm, trust me.) He has also decreed that if (if!!) a baby were to join our family, his name will be "Conifer." (I asked him what would happen if--if!!--a girl baby joined our family. Then her name would be "Conifer Strawberry." Just so we're all clear on that.)

Anyway, this post isn't about conifers. It's about David's favorite broad leaf tree: The birch tree. He is enamored by the ghostly white bark with its black striations. (Me too! I remember the hike in Ohio when I fell in love with birch trees too.)

David made this painting of a birch tree in art class. I love it!

Actually, this post isn't about birch trees either. It's about Kindergartner David (with whom I am totally smitten).

As many of you know, we struggled with the decision to send David to kindergarten this year or not. I think I asked everyone I know about it (and their third cousins twice removed). We carefully considered the consequences. I was leaning towards holding him back because I was so worried about getting off on the wrong foot. What if it was a disaster and he ended up hating school for years? Even forever? (The reasons as to why kindergarten could be a disaster for David are varied, and I'm not going to describe them here.) Many people gave us thoughtful, helpful reassurances that keeping David back another year could be a good thing. (The only people who were pretty adamant about sending David to kindergarten this year were my Aunt Marie and our real estate agent's best friend--I told you I asked everyone.)

After months of worrying about it, one day late last spring I had a rude awakening. I'm not sure it was any sort of warm, fuzzy God-showing-me-the-way thing. It's was a plain old REALITY CHECK. What was David going to do next year if he didn't go to kindergarten? By this point, we knew we were moving to Madison, and I knew there would not be many options for David. When it came to finding a private kindergarten or challenging Pre-K program, we would be limited by cost, distance, and availability (best case he would be put on a waiting list). It was then that I realized, whether I liked it or not, that David was going to kindergarten.

And I felt great peace.

The rest is history. Well, actually, the rest is current events. And the point of this post.

At the beginning of the school year, David was asked to draw a tree. Then his teacher asked him to tell her about the tree, and she recorded what he told her, no more no less. This is what he came up with:

Then a couple of weeks later the children were given the same assignment. Here is David's product:

Isn't it amazing?!

This is from the child who, just a few months ago, given the instructions to draw himself (i.e. two eyes, a nose, and a mouth) could not do it without step-by-step help. The level of detail brings tears to my eyes. (Literally!) He learned so much about trees. And the best part is how EXCITED he is about trees. The more he learns, the more excited he is. I love kindergarten! And I'm so happy he's there.

Oh, and did you notice what kind of tree he drew?

It's a birch tree.

Kindergarten krash

David's teacher warned us at the beginning of the year:

To expect our kindergartner to crash every 10-14 days. To understand that sometimes, out of the blue, very long naps are in order.

David had a big crash a few weeks ago. He had a morning doctor's appointment. On the way home he fell asleep. I put him in his bed. He slept for three hours, and only made it back to school for the last half hour. Yes, you read that correctly. He took a THREE HOUR nap. The last time he'd taken a three hour nap was....I believe,

NEVER.

This weekend was the latest big crash. Saturday evening David went to bed at 5:30! He didn't even want to open the new Legos set he'd purchased that day with his allowance--something he'd been looking forward to for a long time. All he wanted to do was read one (not even two) June B. chapter and go to SLEEP.

We were sure he'd wake up at four in the morning (best case scenario), but he slept all the way until 5:30 am. Yeah, 5:30 is a little too early for our comfort. But it could have been a lot worse. That kid slept TWELVE HOURS! I think the last time he slept TWELVE HOURS was...like,

NEVER.

He seemed recharged Sunday morning, so we all went to church. The Primary children were putting on their presentation about the Savior.

I will now briefly interrupt my blog post about my son's occasional long naps (and I know that's such a thrilling subject) to write about the Primary presentation in sacrament meeting.

(A quick description of the Primary in our congregation. It's big and heavy on the junior end of things. Meaning, for every 8-year-old, there are about 12 three-year-olds. I think you get the picture.)

David's speaking part was, "When He was crucified."

Being the supportive parents we are, we practiced with David. A lot. But he still couldn't remember his line! During the final rehearsal, he still needed to be prompted. And on the way to church yesterday, he still couldn't remember those 4 dang words--even though we'd practiced 5 seconds earlier. I was about ready to pin a paper to his shirt that said, "IT'S NOT MY PARENTS' FAULT I DON'T KNOW MY LINE."

But he did it! He walked right up to the microphone and said 5 (not 4) words beautifully, "When He did be crucified." Hooray! We were so proud of him. He looked so handsome up there. And he remembered his part!

Now, the songs were another matter. He (and his buddy Ellis) stood up proudly for every song and sat down again right on cue. But I don't believe either one of them opened their mouths once. Which, to be honest, is a success in my book! I sort of thought David's mouth might be running the whole time, if you know what I mean. Next year, maybe he'll open it once or twice during the songs. (By the way, I heard him sing (yell?) those songs back in Texas when I went to Primary too. So I know in my heart that those songs exist somewhere in that handsome head of his.)

Okay, back to the topic at hand. David's crash. (Although the fact that David didn't even sing "Follow the Prophet" should have been a hint as to what was happening. I mean, what kid doesn't sing--or scream--"Follow the Prophet"?) By the time sacrament meeting was over (oh, and the presentation was a success, of course, because how could it not be with one thousand adorable three-year-olds?), David looked WIPED OUT. He begged to go home. Since he usually enjoys attending Primary, I took him seriously and took him home. Once home, I was sure he would beg to play computer or watch T.V. But all that sweet little boy wanted to do was TAKE A NAP. And so he did. For THREE HOURS. Really. A THREE HOUR NAP after sleeping for TWELVE HOURS the night before.

And then he went to bed that night AT HIS REGULAR BEDTIME.

By that point I was pretty sure either a nap-taking alien life form had invaded my child's body, or we were going to need to take David to the emergency room. This was not normal.

But he woke up this morning refreshed and happy and excited for school. He was back to himself.

A kindergarten crash. I guess that's all it was. It's a lot of work learning about wood and French horns and repeating patterns and tying your shoes and blending sounds. Sometimes a nice big crash is in order, I suppose.

We missed you, Real David, and we're glad you're back.

(Yes, this post was basically about a three-hour nap. Very exciting, I know. Just be grateful I have promised myself not to post about Mary's three-MINUTE naps of late. Grrrr! That's a story as yet without a happy ending.)

Free at last

Ever since I embarked on my adult life, way (way) back in the day, at good old Carroll Hall, I have been gripped by a fear that has haunted my nights and whose tight, cold tentacles have paralyzed my days.

What fear is this, as irrational as it may be? I believe the technical term is something like

Essegeritcuramconvivium-phobia.

Which means, depending on which online Latin translator you use, "fear of to be the bear in charge of the fun banquet." Or, in other words, fear of being

the activities committee chairperson.

Thanks to this, I no longer have to worry about being asked to fill the position of activities committee chairperson because the position no longer exists. Phew! I am freed from that fear! Now, if only I could overcome my fears of the number 6, dog hair, and toddlers who don't nap...

(By the way, I also wish to express my gratitude to all the volunteers I know who plan really big really fun events--be it for church, community, school, neighborhood, etc. I am amazed that you do what you do without having a heart attack and/or nervous breakdown. And I am grateful to enjoy to the fruits of your efforts. Thank you.)

Mary's Montessori night out

Thursday was Mary's Back-to-School Night. She was very excited to show us some of her favorite lessons. (That is an understatement.)

Mary beelined straight for her sound book. It's a little notebook where she keeps track of the letters she has learned. She was careful to ensure that both Mommy and Daddy had the opportunity to trace each letter and make the sound. Mary is very proud of her sound book. So far, her book has m, a, r, t, o, and s. She loves her book so much that I wasn't allowed to take a picture of it.

Next, Mary showed us her very favorite lesson. Hand washing! It's a multi-step process that includes, among other things, fetching water with a pitcher, pouring the yucky water in a bucket, dumping the bucket water down the drain, and making the bowl "boo-ti-fuw" again with a towel.

Then we were on to her other favorite lesson, banana cutting. Again, a very structured, multi-step process. I was amazed by how deliberately and confidently Mary proceeded through the activity: retrieving the materials off the shelf, choosing a table, rolling out the place mat, arranging the materials on the place mat, peeling and cutting and eating the banana, washing the bowl and knife, wiping off and rolling up the place mat, and returning the tray of materials to the shelf.

Banana cutting is a very serious process. (Don't mess with Mary and her banana.)

Mary finds the most joy and fulfillment in the Practical Life area of the room (maybe it's the apron), but she also showed us some activities in other parts of her classroom.

Here she is finishing up a tracing activity.

Mary then chose to work on a rug she placed on the floor. Here she is learning the parts of a horse using a puzzle and cards.

But our little housekeeper was soon drawn back to Practical Life. She showed us how to wash a table. (She is much more thorough than I!)

Lastly, she chose Silver Polishing. This is a traditional Montessori activity that goes way back to Dr. Maria Montessori's first "Casa dei Bambini." The point is not that Mary has learned how to polish silver. But that she learned to carry out a multi-step process, using her body, with a meaningful and visible result. And she did it independently.

But it's nice to know we have a certified silver polisher in the house. If only we had some silver...

Then Mary showed us the Donut Eating Lesson. Oh, wait that was later.

First, we dragged her kicking and screaming out of her classroom. (We used to drag her kicking and screaming into her classroom, so this is a nice change.) She finds so much satisfaction from school. Her teacher continually comments on how busy she is. I was amazed by how much careful and meaningful work she accomplished in under an hour, as she showed us some of her favorite things. And she wanted to keep going.

But, alas, Back-to-School Night can't last forever.

So we went here, our little local grocery store, where they sell high school sweatshirts and carry your groceries out to your car, no tips please.

They also sell donuts.

David was a trooper! He played in another room at the school with some other children, so Greg and I could focus on Mary. He had a great attitude about it. He definitely deserved a donut.

But Mary was the star of the night!

Mary, we love you even more than you love donuts! And cutting bananas.

Hey guys, can I take your picture?

The answer was no.

(Fortunately, my friend Shannon had much better luck. But more about that another time.)

A few of his favorite things

I had no idea there were so many exciting things in the world which I had utterly failed to purposefully introduce to my son. Thank goodness for kindergarten.

These are a few of the things that David has discovered at school this year for which there is no end to his enthusiasm.

1. Conifers
2. French horns
3. Wood
4. Letter People
5. Indian corn

Really, who would have guessed?

It's a great thing having a happy, curious, enthusiastic kindergartner around the house.

P.S. David is also learning to read, which is very exciting too.

A story for Mary

David loves to hear about the day he was born. Now Mary has been asking about the day she was born.

Not wanting to forever scar my daughter about the miracle of life--I give her plenty of other reasons she'll seek therapy, besides, won't middle school health be scarring enough?--I simply smile and say, "You had a lot of hair on your head."

I am sensing she wants a little more to the story.

But how do you tell your three-year-old about the worst day ever???

Oh, wait. It was also the BEST DAY EVER.

So here are some thoughts for Mary, a few more details from the day she was born.

By the way, this really is for Mary. So please don't expect the scarring (literally) details. (Maybe in another post...in another life...)

A STORY OF WHEN YOU WERE BORN

Mary, you were late. Ten days late!

In dog years, that is almost two and a half months late. And in pregnant lady years, that's about 300 years late. Three hundred really dark, depressing years. I realize you don't know the difference between 10 minutes and 10 days, so let me put it this way. While we were waiting for you to come, it was like waiting as long as it takes to watch 600 Dora episodes. Wow! That means we waited a long, long time.

Fortunately, Grandma Evie was there to keep us company while we were waiting for you.

But pretty soon Grandma Evie was going to have to go home. And we were still waiting for you! I wanted to see you and hold you so badly. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if you could come. But it still wasn't time. You needed more time inside of me.

While I was waiting for you though, Heavenly Father did something special for me: He put a picture in my head of what you looked like! Before you were born, I knew you had lots of dark hair and brown eyes. I knew you were beautiful! I was grateful that God let me see you in my mind. It helped me be a little more patient.

Finally, one night, after David was in bed, I felt like it was time for you to be born. I was kind of surprised because just that morning the doctor had said there was no sign that you were going to be born any time soon. I guess you changed your mind, and you started hurrying out.

But guess what! I didn't want you to be born that night! We knew the hospital was very crowded that night, and I was worried there wouldn't be room for us. Finally, after all that waiting, you were coming...and I wanted you to wait one more day.

I tried to pretend that you weren't coming, but I could feel that it was probably time. So Grandma Evie stayed at home with David, and Daddy and I drove to the hospital on the Air Force base. When we got there, the only room they had for us was in a storage closet! Oh no! But the doctor said you were definitely on your way, so it's a good thing we went to the hospital.

When I realized that you were going to be born that night, I was so happy! My heart was bursting with joy and anticipation. Our little girl was finally going to join our family! Soon I would be holding my little Mary, and that made me very happy, even though I was in a storage closet.

Luckily for us, there was another baby that wasn't quite ready to be born yet. So that mommy went home, and we got to move out of the storage closet into a really nice room. Yay!

Also, you started coming really fast. You suddenly turned into Speedy Mary, and you were going to be born very soon. But then guess what happened. You got stuck! Oh no! We had to wait even longer for you to be born! Yes, Mary, you made us wait even more! Three more hours. (That's like seven and a half Doras.)

You were very stuck, so the doctors thought they might have to do an operation to help you be born. Even though part of me wanted to have the operation because I really wanted you to be born, I mostly didn't want to have the operation. The doctors really wanted to avoid doing the operation. If I had the operation, I would have had to sleep through it and then I wouldn't have been able to see my beautiful baby girl right after she was born. And I would have been very sore afterwards. Also, I didn't know why, but I felt like Heavenly Father didn't want me to have the operation. So we kept waiting, to see if you could be born without the operation.

For much of that time, it was just me and your Daddy in the room. The doctors and nurses were off helping other babies be born. (It was a busy night at the hospital.)

You and I, we had to work really hard for you to be born. You were super strong. Your heart kept beating strongly. But you were still stuck. Most of the time, mommies have the job of pushing the baby out of their tummies, and it was very hard for me to keep helping you be born. I was getting very tired. And I think you were tired of being stuck. You were ready to be born!

So something very, very special happened. Do you want to know what it was? Angels came to help me and you. Isn't that neat? It was very special and reverent. For a time, in that room, it was me, your dad, you, and angels. I couldn't quite see them. But I could feel them, sense them, and I knew they were there. I will always remember the warm feeling of knowing that angels were near. It made me realize how much Heavenly Father loves me and how much He loves you. The angels helped me be strong enough. And soon you twisted and turned and got UNSTUCK. Hooray!

You were really on your way. Soon your dad could see you coming. He saw your head first. He saw that beautiful head of hair. He saw one curl, then he saw two curls, and then he saw three curls! The doctors and nurses came into the room, and a little while later...you were born!

You were born at 6 in the morning on Wednesday, October 17. You weighed almost eight pounds. I was very tired after you were born, and I already knew what you looked like, so I wanted your dad to be able to hold you.

So he did. (Your daddy loves you a lot.)

After you and I both took a long nap, Grandma Evie brought David to the hospital. After all of that waiting, Grandma Evie got to see you and hold you before she had to go back to Texas!

David was super excited to meet you too. It was a special moment. You two recognized each other. I think you were good friends up in heaven before you came into our family. It was obvious you already knew each other, and you were happy to be together again.

Nowadays, even when you fight with each other, I know that the two of you have a special connection. You wanted to be brother and sister together in our family.

Mary, our family officially began on April 18, 2002 when Mommy and Daddy got married. We felt a little more like a family when David was born. But it was when you--our smart, beautiful, funny girl--were born that we finally really felt like a family.

We love you, Mary Christine.

Better, better, better

My dad once pointed out that there is a trade off as your children grow up.

As they get older, the crises are fewer, but they are more serious in nature. Think "teenager" and "crisis." (Please don't tell me specifically what comes to mind. I'm not ready for that. Having a five-year-old who loses his jacket on the playground every day is intense enough for me right now.)

When your children are smaller, the problems are usually minor (spilled Cheerios, wet library books, snotty noses, mushed banana), but they are NON-STOP. You are constantly scrambling.

My dad told me this as a consolation. And it was.

Life with small children is a life in CONSTANT CRISIS. (And most of those crises seem to involve liquid or semi-liquid substances. Think about it.) What hope it brings to my soul to know that non-stop-crisis-mode doesn't last forever. I'm not saying I'm looking forward to "teenager" plus "crisis." (Yikes!) But I do know that as my children become more physically independent and their fingers less sticky and their crises less wet, I find myself enjoying motherhood more.

I am easily overwhelmed, quick to lose my patience, and terrible at multi-tasking. I am not well-suited to the business of raising toddlers. But that business doesn't last forever.

It doesn't last forever!

It. Does. NOT. Last. Forever. Exclamation point.

(For reals!!)

Did you know that one day your son will be able to get himself dressed? No, I'm not kidding. You will be able to say, "[Insert name of your son], please go get dressed," and he will emerge from his room five minutes later...are you ready for this?...DRESSED! (60% of the time--no body's perfect.) Amazing!

Did you know that one day when your daughter is feeling hungry, you won't have to know anything about it because she will simply go to the fridge, select a yogurt, find a spoon, open the yogurt, eat the yogurt, and throw away the empty yogurt cup? All you might have to deal with is a dirty spoon. And when that son of yours is hungry, he'll simply go munch on an apple. And you'll hear nary a whine about being hungry.

Did you know that your son will finally learn to play by himself and will disappear into his room for an hour? An HOUR. That's sixty minutes. An entire hour during which you are not actively entertaining him. And neither is the TV.

Did you know that one day you may even have a daughter whose deepest love in life is to fold her clothes and put them away?

Did you know that after years of bedtime drama, the routine will be as simple as a book, a prayer, and a goodnight kiss. Got that? A book, a prayer, and a goodnight kiss. I am not joking, people!!

Did you know that one day your children will clear their dishes from the table after dinner? The very dishes that they helped set on the table before dinner? And that they themselves will wipe up the milk they spilled during dinner?

Did you know that at some point in the future both of your children will be basically trustworthy with safety scissors and washable markers? You may even be able to TAKE A NAP while your children are doing art projects (with safety scissors and washable markers).

And one day you will go to the store, and your child WILL NOT RUN AWAY in the parking lot. Can you imagine such a thing as that?

Oh, and get this. One day you will be able to reason with your children. Yes, you read that correctly. You will be able to use REASON! (Although reason may still need to be supplemented with fruit snacks.)

No, I am not describing a mystical fantasy land filled with hobbits, unicorns, and children who put on their own shoes. (Actually, the children who put on their own shoes part is REAL. They even put them on the right feet!) It's a real place, a beautiful place. And it's only a few short years, or even months (depending on your kids), away!

I am now going to break rank with every other mommy blogger and say, as I blaspheme, that

I do not want to freeze time.

Sure, I've had lots of moments when I thought I wanted to freeze time. I mean, Greg and I sure do make some super cute babies and toddlers. (Proof, proof, proof, proof.) Who wouldn't want to be surrounded by such adorableness? But if time actually had frozen, I would still be scraping petrified snot off of my pants. Look, my kids can now BLOW THEIR NOSES. It's a miracle! I don't want to go back. I love what I have--a sweet kindergartner and an eerily mature three-year-old--and I look forward to the miracles that await us in the future. (I've even heard a rumor that first-graders know how to zip up their own coats.) For me, motherhood gets better and better.

So bring it on.

***

P.S. I realize this all sounds like all I care about is whether or not my kids can pull up their own pants and wipe their own boogers. It also sounds like I would think having another baby or toddler in our home would be equivalent to a death sentence. I promise I mean neither of those things. I also promise to explain myself better, but I also promised myself I would take a shower before I pick up Mary. (It's one thing to look like you rolled out of bed when you drop your kid off at preschool. It's a different matter when you still look like you rolled out of bed three hours later.)

If I had a DeLorean

Dear Alisa of Two Years Ago,

Hi. I'm from the future. Not from very far into the future (we haven't given up the use of pull-ups at bedtime and the New York Times online is still free), but far enough to tell you this:

It gets easier.

Sincerely,

Alisa of Autumn 2010

Corn maze

Another beautiful (but cold) fall morning.

We decided to spend it in a corn maze.

So we went here:

This was a serious maze--the biggest in Wisconsin!--with challenges on multiple levels. And math. Wait, let me try that again: And MATH!!!!!

This is David and Mary at the entrance. I had no doubt that by the end, Greg would be carrying both of them. I determined to get a picture of them on their own two feet. (I guess Mary's only on one foot, but you know what I mean.)

This is a view of the corn field in which we would be wandering. (I told you Wisconsin is quite lovely.)

We set off.

We each had a job.

Mary was the leader. Yes, our three-year-old led us through the corn maze. Fortunately, she was wise enough to turn to Greg for guidance at each juncture.

Greg was the navigator.

David was the flag bearer. (We BEGGED and PLEADED him to leave the flag at the entrance. But he was 100% determined that he would carry that thing the whole way. It was a blessing and a curse: He had a job and didn't try to usurp Mary's status as leader, but, well, let's just say we all got poked and bonked plenty with the too-tall-for-a-five-year-old flag pole.)

My job was to take pictures. Which is why there are approximately 800 pictures in this post. (I also served as the assistant flag bearer at those moments when the primary flag bearer was feeling frail and/or had poked his dad in the bum a few too many times.)

You only start the maze with a piece of the map. You have find a certain mailbox to get the next piece of the map. There were 7 mailboxes to find. It was always super exciting to find a mailbox. Progress! The kids showed lots of enthusiasm.

Here we are at one of them. (Notice that David nearly decapitated his father.)

Mary and David usually pooped out on the bench at each mailbox.

Greg served diligently as our navigator.

He only got us lost once (though he disputes this and insists that he knew where we were at all times--as THE HUMAN GPS, he has a reputation to maintain).

About halfway through the maze, David and Mary decided to start taking naps at the mailbox stations.

Nappers:

Faker:

There were also stops at top secret locations. We found two of the eight (which we thought was pretty good!).

Finally, Mary decided to take over my responsibility of assistant flag bearer.

She eventually wrested the flag pole from David.

By this point, David was begging to be carried. (I was impressed that he waited until the near-end to ask to be carried. I thought he would beg to be carried after the first three steps.)

Greg did not carry David. Instead, he offered him a hand.

More napping ensued at the seventh mailbox.

Until they realized it was the LAST mailbox--and our map was complete!

David planned our route out of the maze.

Indeed, David and Mary did a great job leading us out of the maze. They sprinted to the finish, leaving Mom, Dad, and the blasted flag in the dust.

David and Mary investigating the word "exit":

Hooray! We made it! I'm sad that this last picture is totally out of focus, but it does prove something very important...

...David and Mary finished the way they began. On their own feet! Yay!

You know how sometimes family outings are more fun afterwards when you start to forget all the whining and constant crises? For the record, this was NOT one of those times. We all genuinely had a great time--during the time. Hooray!

A big thank you to Greg for taking off a few hours of much-needed studying to be our navigator. Without him, we would have been stuck in the corn until harvesting.