Abigail is going to be two in about 4 days, and today’s mostly over. The little girl that I love so much is surely amazing. In only two years she’ll be four and in seven times that number she’ll be sixteen (and proving my amazing math skills in ten times that number she’ll be twenty-two). What is so fun right now is that she’s getting pretty well potty trained (though tonight I got to handle a "secret stinker," or a potty done in private that was later revealed to us as an accident), she’s got a pretty good vocabulary, and in a couple weeks she’ll start the dance classes Jessica has her signed up for. Shortly after that she’ll start gymnastics and begin her Olympic training. When she’s fourteen (and looking about six or seven) she’ll appear in her first Olympics, if she’s lucky she’ll make it into one more at eighteen, and if God works miracles she could be in a third Olympics at the ripe old age of 22.

Of course at twenty-two she’ll have steel posts in her legs, a robotic elbow, more stitches than Betsy Ross’ sewing projects and a very narrow set of carreer choices. Of course that’s just conjecture, but I was totally right when I guessed that she would be born before the thirty-first of December 2002.