It's been a long time away and tough to get back into the habit of posting to my blog so I'll start with a quick insight into the lovable oddness of Nolan. This morning, while sitting at the dining table, Jim and I heard Nolan talking to, presumably, himself in the living room. Not surprising. Jim is always muttering to himself and genes have a tendency to be passed along to the next generation. When Nolan entered the room, I asked my rhetorical "Who were you talking to?" question, expecting the normal response of "myself". Instead I was told, "My bandaid." If you know Nolan, you're chuckling. I love that weird kid.
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So funny. And so scary. The genes just don't go away.
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