Dear Mom...

Sorry I got mad at you a couple of weeks for dying. I know that if you knew you were going to die, you never would have had the surgery. It’s not your fault.

This weekend Leah spent some time with her Grandpa Enzo. They did a lot of climbing and jumping—you know, fun stuff. She was excited to go and see him, and then, once we got there, she refused to kiss him hello or go near him. Typical Leah. Once I left, she was back to her friendly self, of course.

I’ve been hearing a lot about how her behavior is different when I’m around verses when I’m gone. If I leave her with someone, she is a little princess angel. I come into the picture and we’ve got a WMD on our hands.

I am told this is normal, so I’m not going to worry.


Leah was supposed to get a bike yesterday. But then she spit at her dad. And then she spit again in time out. So, today, there are no pictures of Leah on her new bike…since she didn’t get one.

However, here a couple of pictures right before she hit the tennis courts.


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