8 December 1992

The holiday season is upon us once again. It is a traditional time of family gatherings, of reflection on the past year, and of frantic shopping sprees. More significantly, it is a time that once again brings forth the


form letter where we have an opportunity to tell you all the exciting things that have happened to us in the past six months. A subject of extraordinary proportions, truly grandiose in scale, a colossal talc of the very fabric of human existence. A subject we've managed to stretch to almost a paragraph despite the almost total lack of any events falling in this category.

Well, there is the soon to be released "Brianna... the sequel." Brianna is about to become an ex-only-child. Yes, for those few of you that have not heard, Will is about seven ninths complete at this point and is well on the way to becoming a full fledged son.

Of course, this means that we will have two kids in diapers simultaneously. And Brie still hasn't quite gotten the knack of sleeping through the night yet. So our sleep is probably even more a thing of the past than it already is. Which leads to the obvious question of whether it might not have been cheaper in the long run just to buy a cattle prod and zap ourselves every hour or so for the next eighteen years, the end result on our mental and physical well being probably being about the same.

But there is the upside of parenting. Despite jokes to the contrary. Brie is a wonder. She is a bright eyed, curious little girl who is fascinated with everything. When she gets sleepy, she gets all snugly and hugs you very tightly and rests her small, warm head against your shoulder, and you would rather die than wake her up. When you do something she really likes, she grins widely, showing off her little teeth, wrinkles up her nose and giggles loudly. When something scary is around, like a barking poodle, she jumps into your arms and buries her head between your cheek and shoulder, peeking out occasionally to find out if the scary thing is still there. Not that we're really taken with her. Its just that she is, after all, the cutest toddler to walk the earth since the dawn of time.

She has a number of games she likes to play now; the "round and round" game, where Mom sings "round and round and round we go" and Brie spins until she gets so dizzy she falls over. There is the "let's beat this gravity thing" game, where she tries to jump by bending her knees very fast, then slowly rises to her full height and looks confused when her feet don t leave the ground. There is the "zoom" game, where she sits down and holds up her hands for Dad to grab, then gets dragged around the house on the seat of her pants while Dad yells "wheeeee" like a deranged tea kettle. There is the "let's pull the power cord out of the back of the computer" game. There is the "is this hair stuff really attached to your scalp. Mom?" game. And there is more, much more.

Now, these games might seem somewhat pointless to you, may even seem like things you would pay rather large sums of money to avoid. But for Kate and I, it is a sign that Brianna is growing up. It is difficult to understand the joy a parent takes in the seemingly insignificant accomplishments of their child. But when you see them day after day, you realize what a miracle it is that human beings ever managed to learn basic motor skills, never mind a language and the capability to reason.

And perhaps the appreciation for just how wonderful it is makes the best present of all.


You have our best wishes for 1993

Dave. Kate, Brie, and 7/9ths of Will