Hagen's First Day

Dear Hagen,

Your grandfather Philip has been teasing me a little lately, because when Laney started walking, it resulted in multiple blog posts and videos and excited telephone calls to our kin. When you started walking, it rated a P.S. on our Christmas card. 

You're walking like a pro, by the way.  I'm especially fond of this photo of you at the hotel in Spokane, where you and your dad walked all the way to the pool together in your swimsuits, and your dad yelled, "It's like March of the Penguins out here!"

Last week, we hit another important milestone when you had your first day at Laney's school (not in the same class, obviously).  I dropped you off in the morning, and then walked back to Grandma Sue's house and sat on her couch and cried because I missed you so much. I had phantom pains on the calf you usually cling to.

Just a few hours later, your teacher called and told me you had a fever, and I needed to go right back and get you. And that was the start of your recent bout with roseola. I got so distracted by the illness that I forgot to report on the milestone. 

You went back on Friday, where your teacher reported you had a, "very relaxing day," having dragged a pillow onto a mat and laid down to watch all the other kids play. On your daily take-home note, she also wrote, "HE ATE SO MUCH LUNCH!!"  If we're not getting our money's worth in activities, we're by God going to take it out in turkey wraps. 

These are pictures of our walk to school this morning, although with that hat of Dad's you're wearing, it looks like I'm taking you to work the swing shift on the docks. 

________________________

Here's the other bit of news I haven't shared 'til now: Your dad has been gone for the past week to Oregon, where he's been attending the Forest Service's Snow School. If you rolled your eyes after reading that, rest assured I rolled my eyes while typing it. I've been a single parent for the past week while your dad was learning how to dig snow caves and measure snow and pack the ultimate  survival kit and do something or other in re: avalanches. I just thought - as a safety issue - I wouldn't advertise on the internet that I was a woman alone in the boonies with two children. Our guard dog is usually laying in front of the fire in a macaroni and cheese coma, and I do not own a gun. Nor do I want to. I always imagined if I had one, it would go a little like this:

Dad comes home this afternoon, and I couldn't be more thrilled. In addition to all the normal work and parenting stuff this week, I've been doing all the stuff that he normally does, like building fires to keep the house warm, shoveling snow so we can get to the car, that kind of thing. With apologies to Waylon, I've been working on a country song in my head all week called, "Don't You Think This Pioneer Bit's Done Got Out Of Hand?"

I can't wait to pick you up from school today, hear about how many pounds of Corn Flakes you put away, and then take you home to your dad.

Love,

Mom