Raising Reagan

It's back to life, and back to reality. The trip with Sarah to Italy although not restful, was beautiful, exciting and awe inspiring. It really makes you wonder, as you stand in St. Peter's Basilica, or a 500 year old wine castle in Chianti, or the Academy museum in Florence with Michelangelo's David...if there are, in fact, any four year old's in Italy. How else can something stand, in such good condition, for so long?? The only place, I'm convinced, that there are four year old's, is in Rome...where the ruins are.

Sure, I think there are babies all over Italy, then once they reach the age of two, they are shipped to Rome where things are already crumbling (albeit beautiful), and then when they are old enough to crush grapes with their feet with marker painted all over them, they are redistributed back to their families.

It is for this reason that, as we move in to our condo this week, Reagan continues to stay with one set of grandparents who have vowed to guard her like an angry centry at the Sistine Chapel. We envisioned movers bringing in boxes...Reagan promptly prying said boxes open...probably in the doorway...then movers slipping on packing paper, crayons and beheaded Barbies as they bring in the next round. I'm sure there's an insurance rider specifically for four year old's involved in a household move.

We do miss our girl, and can't wait to see her this weekend for sure. She'll be happier too, as, I'm convinced, the amount of punishment and time outs is in direct correlation with how much time a parent has had drinking wine in Tuscany.

Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither is our condo...what with all the unpacking, decorating, moving of furniture multiple times by order and whip of Sarah Caesar. This weekend we'll go get Reagan and deliver her home to her new bedroom, which will be as neat and glorious as the Romans would have originally had it.

Then, I give it one day. Maybe not even a full day. And shortly thereafter we'll be conducting tours through our own ruins...describing it's once glorious condition... minus the tigers, lions and gladiators and such. Well...I hope. Thankfully those post-four year olds are crushing grapes somewhere outside of Rome.