Category: Dane

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There’s This Boy…

…in a far away land.

A) by castle

What better place could there be for Sir Dane, than to be surrounded by ancient castles and motes and bridges? He is really happy in this place.

A) Siauliai streets

He’s still in Lithuania but he’s been transferred to a village called Siauliai. I know…I know. No idea how you pronounce that one. He said it was like being taken to the Hobbit Shire, in Middle Earth.

A) With business class

He was asked to speak in the business school in town. They wanted to hear an “actual American” speaking “proper English.”  If you knew Dane before he left and ever heard his fake foreign or his own personal slang–you’d know funny that is.

A) With pals

My sweet boy has been gone for 1 year and 5 months—which means, he will be home in about 7 months! Wahooo!

Just in time for the bald kid—our baby, to step up.

Yikes.

We’ll need a busload of Rescue Remedy for that one.

Listen for the wailing… 

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The Babe and the Boy

One of Dane’s mission companions is back home now. He came to see us because he promised Dane that he would.

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He also swore an oath…

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to come hug the babies in Dane’s place—especially the one my boy hasn’t met yet.

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He is a very sweet boy.

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We all completely loved him—at first sight.

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Ok, ok.

Not all.

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It’s Been a Year…

since I’ve seen my cute boy…

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as of today–June 4, 2009.

He is happy and safe and learning Russian as well as Lithuanian and fumigating his apartment for fleas, and loving it all.

He met a man who introduced himself by saying, “Hello, my name is Jesus.”

Without missing a beat, Dane answered, ” Nice to meet you. How can we help you?”

Sheesh–I miss that boy.

I’ll just have to walk around saying, “One year left…one year left…one year left.”

Tick…tick…tick. The countdown begins…

The chanting does help.

I am brave…I am brave…I am brave.

I am trying…

 

 

*****

Read Jillian’s “Walking On Sunshine“” post about her brother.

 

 

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Someone Please…

tell me…

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What is it with boys and guns anyway?

Have you ever noticed that you don’t have to actually hand them a play gun, because everything–EVERYTHING magically has the ability to become one? Rakes…tripods…cd cases…balloons…bread.

Whatever.

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In their mind, every inanimate object within their reach, has the innate ability to maim. This is a skill that only boys have–or, I might add, want.

From birth.

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Of course, this skill puts everyone in their rifle scope every waking moment. We wouldn’t want to waste precious practice time, would we? Consequently, no one is safe.

In fact, I remember helping 3 year old Daney boy get dressed one day and his little thumb-and-finger-gun kept being loaded and fired too dang close to my head for me to like it.

Finally, after having my ears and chin and both eyes taken out by Hop-along’s imaginary bullets and a bit weary of his gun hand waving in my face, I held on to his arm and said, “Hey! You know, it isn’t very nice for boys to shoot at their mommas.”

His eyes immediately filled up with tears and he collapsed in a heap in front of me.

“I wasn’t shooting my momma.” Oh, he was wailing now.

“Reeeeally?” I said.

And I’m Mother Goose.

He pulled himself up and wiped at his nose with his sweatshirt sleeve. To the washer with that one.

“I was killing the bad guys….

so…

they don’t…

get….

…you.”

dun..dun..dun.

sigh.

The “Mother of the Year” title  just flew past me…

…again.

Rats.