Two years

Two years ago, they placed her in our arms. We expected tears. We got quiet acceptance and

alertness. This sick, skinny, red-cheeked baby seemed to trust us as we fussed over her, smiled and cried, then took her back to our hotel room to discover that not only was she not walking at eleven months, she couldn't sit or roll over. The only time she got really upset was when we tried to feed her solid food-- it was obvious she had no idea what it was. But there was a spark in her eyes that let us know that eventually, she would be fine.

This morning, she and Maren spent the morning acting out the songs from Frozen. She's wearing her favorite purple shirt and her favorite purple shorts, which she wears because she thinks they make her look like Elsa (so much for all the money I spent on cute clothes this winter). When I contrast the newborn-like baby she was two years ago with this big kid (an acutal kid! not a baby!), it makes me so happy to see how far she's come, and also a little sad at how quickly this time has

She's smiling for the camera, can't you tell?

passed.

Today, Rose runs the house. When we decided to adopt, it was, in part because I wanted the sound of kids' voices in the house for a bit longer, and I certainly have them. Rose does everything with purpose, intention, and zest. Everyone in the house, probably even everyone on our street, knows when she's happy and when she's sad. She's the life of our party and completely central to our existence, and even though she runs us all ragged sometimes, we couldn't imagine our lives without her.