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We seem to have arrived in a peaceful place for the moment.

Sam made some remarkable progress learning a skill that he needed to feel more successful in school.  I made some remarkable progress advocating for my son in a context that was less easy for me than you might think (what with me being a teacher an all).

Marcel and the fourth year seem to be getting along quite nicely. He continues to integrate his donor into his life with remarkable ease. Oh and to the reader who asked me why I don’t call the donor a father, that piece is going to be addressed by the donor himself in his own piece.  (Right Tree?) The short answer is that he and I agreed that that was not his role. Marcel doesn’t attach whatever understanding he has of the word “father” to his donor. To him the word has it’s own magical being, and it feels very special. I suppose another way to address that is to say–a donor doesn’t upset you when he isn’t doing all the things you think a “father” is supposed to. Instead a donor just is everything he is supposed to be when he comes to dinner, or takes you to the playground. Donors can marry other people, or live in faraway places, and they are doing what donors do…

On another note–Marcel’s fascination with knights continues to grow.  As does his understanding of many things…While playing the other day he says; “Mommy did you know that all the knights are white? But all the bosses (brown Lego people) who are in charge of them are brown so it is OK”.

Crazy at is sounds–we are laughing a lot more. Sam gets 90% of the credit here. His humor has just burst into this new realm. His sense of context for jokes is 5,000 more developed than it was six months ago. Tonight after dinner with friends we were all home hanging out in the fort Marcel made for “his kids” in the living room. Sam brought me some tea. He presented it to me on a tray; “Madam your sweet tea.”  Then he started laughing. We were all snorting and giggling. Sam, sitting sweetly next to me, with the book he had picked out to read to us (Leonardo the Terrible Monster), looked up at me and said; “Mommy I love hearing you laugh so much.”

“Me too” I answered, smiling. And then proceeded to tell him that he is cracking me up.  He beamed and said; “I know.”

When I am taking pictures again, and having the time to play with photography apps you know I’m in a place that has some air around the edges.  Has your November crept in on soft feet too? I’m committed to holding fast to this ease. Whatever that means. I’ll let you know if I figure it out.