Sorry … I seem to be getting lax about making entries in my book to you. It's just that time passes more quickly than I realize and you are growing so fast.
But, much has happened in the past several weeks. Your sister Jessie has come to spend a month with us. I can tell she loves you dearly and she is very helpful because she likes to take care of her little brother. She'll be leaving soon, and I'm sure she'll miss you … and you her.
The doctor is thinking about having your right foot put into a cast because of the way it turns in. I'll be taking you to see a special bone doctor so he can tell us what, if anything, needs to be done.
Your nanny, my mother, called us last night to see how we were all doing. And to say she anxiously awaits our arrival to California in just a few short weeks.
Monday, July 27, 2026
…
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.
Monday, July 27, 2026
…
My mom died on January 7, 2026. She was 70 years old. It was both her time and not her time.