nine

Nine. The last of the single digits. Amongst all the dorkiness that comes with being a nine year old boy (ie: wiping dirty hands directly on anything other than a napkin and taking up more physical space than a herd of elephants) I love finding him in his quiet moments. Fittingly we ushered in nine in the quietness of a quaint French village. His big birthday present had been going to a football game in Spain. So the birth day we spent going to a nearby town (with the visiting grandparents) to poke around and get a birthday cake. It was pouring rain so the poking around was made difficult.

kid food

My kids are pretty good eaters. But a lot of people are asking me what they will eat once we get away from the western fare. I hope they will eat what we eat. It will be an adventure watching them try new things they can't pronounce, because I really believe that eating local cusiine around the world is a huge part of the experience, for adults too. My plan is not to try to find pizza in every corner of the world.