A journalist observes life in the far north.
She climbs up into her booster seat and then is stuck because she’s not sure how to climb down. I walk over and she jumps into my arms.
This happens several times any given morning as I try to get dressed or wash dishes or post to this blog.
Now she is standing by the stairs grunting, which means she wants to go outside. She doesn’t say many words. There hasn’t been a new word all summer. I wonder if she’ll be a quiet person.
I think some people think it’s odd she doesn’t say much, but I know she understands a lot and that’s what counts in my book.