We had never met.
This little boy had seen our picture—and we had seen his.
And yet there we were, standing in a government office in Hunan Province, being united forever as a family.
John and I were nervous and excited and in awe. I can’t tell you how Leo felt. I just know that four years ago when we met him, our new son stood there, hiding his face behind one hand as he tried to take us in.
He was the most beautiful child I had ever seen, and I could hardly believe I would get to take him into my arms and heart and home—forever.
Yet there we were, surveying each other, communicating with few words as tears ran down our faces and Leo tried to figure us out. There must have been other people in that room—including some of our best friends in the whole world—but in my memory of that moment, I am aware of only three of us.
I remember looking at our child, who had just turned 2, and then holding him. We offered him apple juice and a toy airplane. We admired him quietly and aloud, marveling at every detail—his hair, his eyes, his warmth, his size, his clothes, his little shoes.
He was perfect. And I remember hoping and praying that I would and could be a good enough mother to him. It's an ongoing prayer.
We met Leo in December in China, and it was decorated for Christmas everywhere we went.
There were trees and lights and Santa Claus pictures taped up in windows. And the signs all said, "Merry Christmas."
And so this time of year, when we celebrate Leo’s “Gotcha Day,” I can easily place myself back in China—back in that moment when we were new parents, a new family, and falling in love with our child more every day.
Those two weeks in China weren't always easy. There were tears and challenges, of course. But there was also so much joy. When I look back on that trip, I think of it as a family honeymoon, a time for us to get to know one another—to discover as much as we could about our son, but also, for me, to encounter John as a marvelous new father.
We had never met this child before that day. But by the time we arrived home, it was almost impossible to believe we hadn't known him forever.
December 06, 2013 10:59
By Rita Buettner
— 1 —
Are you celebrating St. Nicholas Day?
We always leave our shoes out the night before so the saint can fill them with treats
. The boys were bouncing off the walls on St. Nicholas Eve with excitement. If they get this happy about the idea of some candy inside a shoe, I can’t imagine what Christmas Eve will be like. I can’t wait to find out.
— 2 —
Last week Daniel and I bought a bar of soap shaped like a frog for his cousin "Elise" who loves Kermit and frogs.
The next night I turned on the bathroom faucet and glanced down to see that very bar of frog soap sitting on the soap dish. My gift-giving plans had been thwarted.
I went to find Daniel, who is almost 4.
Me: “Remember how we bought that frog soap?”
Me: “We bought it for your cousin, right?”
Daniel: “Why did we buy it for her?”
Me: “Because she likes frogs.”
Daniel: “But Mama, is that a real frog?”
You really can’t win arguments with preschoolers.
— 3 —
I know some people get antsy about Christmas lights going up before Thanksgiving or too early in Advent or whatever else. I just love Christmas lights. I wish they were up year-round—or at least through the darkest days of the winter. Every year the boys and I enjoy looking for lights on our commute. And even though we’re not driving as far as we used to, thanks to our move this year, they are a highlight of our drive home.
So if you have Christmas lights up, thank you. We appreciate your generosity and creativity every single time we pass your house. And, if I may make one small request, now that you’ve done all that work, don’t feel you need to rush to take them down right after Christmas.
— 4 —
We don’t do the Elf on the Shelf in our house, not because we have any ideological issues with it, but because I think Elf maintenance is a lot of trouble.
But a friend shared this idea of the Kindness Elves
, and I love it. Maybe, just maybe, I could be persuaded to try this with my children. The only problem is I don’t want to add anything else to Advent. But why can’t we do it in January? Or February? I think I’ll look for some discount elves after Christmas.
— 5 —
I had two New Year’s resolutions for 2013.
One was to take off one day from work each month. I’ve failed miserably with that one. So let’s talk about my second one: creating the book telling the story of Daniel’s life before he met us. I managed to get his big brother’s book completed before we celebrated his first “Gotcha Day
,” the anniversary of the day we met him.
His one source of confusion? He can’t understand what a hotel is. Except for our adoption trips, we’ve never stayed in a hotel with him or his brother, and I am doing a terrible job explaining to him that there are places people can stay while they’re traveling.
The questions will get harder as the years go by, and here he’s already stumped me with this one.
— 6 —
The other day Leo asked me to buy him some bows. He was thrilled until he looked through the bag.
“Mama, why didn’t you buy any black ones?” he asked. Black is, after all, his favorite color.
“They don’t sell black ones,” I said. “Most people think black is a sad color.”
But I was wrong. Two days later I was walking through a store and saw a package of wrapping paper—including leopard print and zebra striped—and matching black and red bows. I had to buy it. So I was wrong about the black bows, but now I have some fabulous wrapping paper.
Now I just need to find some presents to wrap inside it.
— 7 —
Leo’s school had a Jingle Bell Shop, where the students could buy gifts for family members. Leo wanted to buy for his parents, brother, grandparents, and all the aunts and uncles he’ll see over Christmas. It was not a short list.
I gave him what I felt was an extravagant $30 and told him he could keep whatever he didn’t spend.
I knew he’d come home with cash—and he did: $10.
But what was adorable was his bag full of gifts, each carefully selected and so personal. I can’t tell you what he picked because there’s a good chance that Grandma or Uncle Ricky will be reading this blog. But I was struck by the care he took in selecting gifts. And there must have been some fantastic parent volunteers to help him choose 50-cent items.
He ran into the house and grabbed the wrapping paper to wrap my present before I could see it. And he did a nice job.
So here’s my new plan for holiday shopping. Next year I let Leo handle all the shopping at the Jingle Bell Shop. When he gets home, he can do all the wrapping. And everyone will get a black bow.
December 05, 2013 11:45
By Rita Buettner
Four years ago today John and I boarded a plane for China.
We had never flown together before—and never planned to. But our first child, our son, was waiting for us in China. And there was only one way to reach him. So to China we went.
I felt a whole bundle of emotions: anxiety, excitement, joy, and the enormous responsibility that comes with becoming parents for the first time. And, because it was the first week of Advent, I remember thinking of Mary and Joseph and wondering whether they experienced similar feelings as they traveled by donkey to Bethlehem.
They must have had many worries. Would they find a place to stay? Would the people be friendly? When would they meet their baby boy? How would life change as they became a family of three? Which would be more difficult, the trip to Bethlehem with an expectant mother or the trip home with an infant?
They also had tremendous faith. They knew God would provide, and that His angels were watching over them at every step. But they must also have known it wouldn't be an easy journey. And they must have had to rely on their faith as they welcomed their newborn baby in a stable full of animals, far from their home and families.
Because Advent 2009 was the one when John and I became parents, every Advent brings back those memories of waiting and our journey to China to become parents.
I never imagined that we would become parents on the other side of the world, that we would hear our son’s first English words in a hotel room in China, that there would be such a blending of sorrow and joy in my first moments holding my son. Yet that was our journey to becoming a family. And I wouldn't trade a moment.
So here we are in the first week of Advent once more. I am not preparing to board a plane to go to China. But I am trying to prepare myself to welcome another baby, the Christ Child, who is not just mine, but also yours and, really, the world’s.
This time of year is always full of challenges, balancing responsibilities, and adjusting expectations. This year I want to set as much as I can aside and focus on what matters. Spiritually I want to get on a plane, leave it all behind, and keep my eyes on the Child I will get to embrace at the end of the journey.
I don’t know whether that’s possible in the midst of all the pre-Christmas busyness, but that’s my goal this Advent season. What’s yours?
December 03, 2013 10:58
By Rita Buettner
When we visited my parents’ house this week, Daniel and I admired a nativity scene on their mantel.
“Where’s Jesus?” I asked our almost-4-year-old, and he happily pointed to Joseph. That’s when I realized we need to focus on the Christmas story this Advent.
So tonight we pulled out the nativity felt board their Aunt Treasa made for Leo on his first Christmas home in 2009. Leo moved the felt figures around as he told and retold his little brother the greatest story ever told.
We will be telling that story—perhaps with less focus than Leo put on Herod—a lot over the next few weeks.
But I also wanted something more tangible to share with our children, in addition to our Advent wreath, which I am hoping we can find in one of the boxes we haven’t unpacked from our move. So I’m borrowing an idea from a column written by Chris Gunty
, and we are filling a manger (it’s a basket) with hay (pieces of yellow yarn) to prepare it for the Baby Jesus to arrive on Christmas.
I’m not sure whether there are official rules for this Advent activity. Our rule is that anyone in the family can award anyone else a piece of hay to place in the manger based on acts of kindness or helpfulness toward a family member. Daniel started earning hay for the manger immediately, cutting dozens of pieces of yarn using the bluntest child-safe scissors in the house.
The boys were immediately excited about the idea, and when I mentioned that I still had to find a baby to put in the basket on Christmas morning, Leo ran to find a stuffed animal that was just the right size.
After we all agreed that a bright blue lemur couldn't play the role of Jesus, Leo suggested we use the felt Jesus his aunt had made. It’s small, but the boys were pleased that it fit in the basket. And there's a lot of room left for all the hay we plan to add.
And Daniel even put felt “baby toys” in the basket to entertain Jesus, too.
Then we took Jesus out of the manger. He has to wait. After all, Advent is just beginning. And that manger doesn’t look very comfortable yet.
At dinner John asked the boys what they would give Jesus for a birthday present, and Leo fell silent to think. But Daniel had his answer right away.
“A mousetrap!” he said.
Hmm. How about we make him a soft, warm manger instead? We’ll see how it goes.
What are you doing to keep Christ in Christmas this Advent season?
November 30, 2013 11:16
By Rita Buettner
— 1 —
If you think Thanksgiving gets shortchanged because it’s between Halloween and Christmas, you must not have a child in preschool or kindergarten. I can’t even keep track of who made which turkey craft or construction paper pilgrim hat.
Just when I thought Thanksgiving couldn’t be acknowledged in any other way, I discovered that we had to send in a rock so Leo could paint it to look like Plymouth Rock.
And that was before the school feasts that were held this week where Daniel got to eat what he called “big crumbs.” Maybe that was the Pilgrims’ term for stuffing.
Our Thanksgiving was quiet and small in comparison, and it was bliss. I realized years ago that holidays were designed to bring out the worst in children, so when we get to keep the stimulation to a minimum, I’m truly grateful.
Because my mother told me we didn’t need to bring anything for my parents’ Thanksgiving table, Daniel and I went to the store to pick up flowers. I don’t know how the Pilgrims felt when they saw land from the Mayflower, but I know our joy when we saw an enormous turkey balloon. We grabbed it and went to the cash register where they made up a price for it: $7.99—and worth every penny.
I knew my mother would love it. I also knew my father would be thinking about the national (or is it global?) helium shortage—which is part of the fun of buying a balloon for my parents. And our un-basted, inedible, inflated turkey was the hit of the party—well, except for my mother’s pumpkin pie.
How was your Thanksgiving?
— 2 —
I learned the other day that my niece is receiving a frog for Christmas.
In fact, I think her parents are giving her two frogs. This is not “Eileen,” the niece who had two rats who died over the summer
. This is her younger sister, “Elise,” who is 6 ½ and adores Kermit and all frogs.
Frogs are marvelous. But do you know what frogs eat? Bugs. Live ones. And someone has to feed the bugs to the frogs—and that someone is going to be my sister Maureen or her husband.
I told Maureen I don’t think she has any more Purgatory time to shave off, but if she did, being responsible for feeding frogs would surely eliminate it.
— 3 —
Last Friday Leo’s school had an out-of-uniform day. Students donated $1 to typhoon relief efforts in the Philippines and wore non-uniform clothes. Leo does not enjoy wearing his uniform. He changes out of it the moment he arrives home. And he refuses to wear it in public when he’s not at school.
So I was sure he’d be happy to wear an outfit of his choice. We sat at breakfast that morning talking about the Philippines and I mentioned we had sent some money to try to help.
“Mama,” Leo said, “I’ll wear my uniform and save my money.”
I had to talk him into participating.
“Oh, fine,” he said with a big sigh. Then he went and put on his favorite Ninjago shirt.
Motherhood is full of moments you can’t possibly anticipate.
— 4 —
This is one of the questions: “What place does the idea of the natural law have in the cultural areas of society: in institutions, education, academic circles and among the people at large? What anthropological ideas underlie the discussion on the natural basis of the family?”
Maybe you have an answer, but I still can't come up with anything to say. I wonder who will have to read all the answers. Mine won’t take long since I answered most of the questions with “I don’t know” and “I’m not sure I know what this question is asking.”
— 5 —
Last Saturday we attended a memorial Mass for our nephew Georgie.
It was beautiful and so very comforting. We took both our boys, and Daniel couldn’t get over the fact that we knew so many people at church.
He wanted to know which of the priests on the altar was Pope Francis. Then as my sister began the readings, Daniel turned and whispered to me, “Is Aunt Shai a priest now?”
— 6 —
We love holiday train gardens, and we went to our first one of the season at the Kenilworth Mall this week. The boys pushed every button and compared the design to last year’s.
In another year maybe Leo can offer a ranking of his favorite train gardens in the Baltimore area. We certainly have our favorites. What’s yours? And if it's not in Baltimore, that's OK, too. One of our favorites is almost two hours from here by car.
— 7 —
Typically when we eat out with the boys I don’t actually read the menu. I ask for the soup-of-the-day because we have two soup lovers in our family, and then I scan quickly to find something for me. This week I was scanning a menu when this item caught my eye.
I wonder just how chic those peas are.
November 28, 2013 11:23
By Rita Buettner
The other day I was dropping Daniel off at preschool when his teacher stopped me.
“Do you have a minute?” she asked.
Nothing good ever follows that question. And it never comes on a day when you do, in fact, have a minute.
“What’s going on?” I asked. And she started talking about trouble listening, and I nodded and showed what I hope was appropriate concern.
Then she paused and I knew something big was coming—the real reason for this conversation. And then it came: “He even lost his position as a wise man in the Christmas concert!”
That got my attention. Because, I have to tell you, when I heard earlier that Daniel had been recruited to be a wise man, I was surprised.
Daniel is one of the sweetest, most compassionate children you will ever encounter. If you need someone to run, hug, or make you laugh, he’s your boy. But I’ve seen him in two performances, and neither time did he do anything he was expected to do. He loved being on stage and smiled and laughed his way through the show. But he didn’t sing a word of the songs.
And yet here he had been chosen to be a wise man. I hoped I had underestimated him, but I just couldn’t picture it going well.
“Oh, dear,” I said to the teacher. “What happened?”
“He was pretending the gift was a gun.”
Now there is nothing funny about that—nothing at all. And that is what I tried to tell myself as I struggled to keep from laughing. But the truth is that I could not get out of the school fast enough.
Our little boy loves everyone and everything. When he drops food on the floor, he tells us, “It’s for the mice.” He begs to set the table or mop the floor or wash the windows. But he adores guns. And there seems to be nothing we can do to change that.
The teacher would have been appalled, I’m sure, but I sat in the car laughing and thanking God for this child—and for letting our wise man show his true colors before the actual concert.
On the big day I don’t know whether there will be three wise men or only two—and we have no idea what Daniel’s new job is—or whether he’s been reassigned to the stage crew. But we’ll certainly be there to cheer him on.
November 26, 2013 09:24
By Rita Buettner
I see images on Facebook voicing moral outrage over people shopping on Thanksgiving. But why? It’s just not an issue that excites me. In a world full of problems, this is what I am supposed to be upset about?
(Flickr Creative Commons / photo_gratis)
Here’s why I don’t care:
- Thanksgiving is a holiday, not a holy day. It’s a wonderful day, but it’s not sacred. I’d be more concerned about employees who have to work on a day with religious significance to them—Good Friday, Passover, or Christmas, for example. I would sooner see protecting Sundays as a day of rest and worship than worrying about Thanksgiving.
- How can this be a moral issue? Plenty of people work on holidays. Maybe they get extra compensation; maybe they don’t. It’s not ideal, but it’s reality. When I was a newspaper reporter, I worked on Thanksgiving and weekends and other holidays. It wasn’t a big deal. In fact, it was kind of fun because everyone I encountered was in a holiday mood.
- So, let’s say you skip holiday shopping on Thanksgiving. If the concern is that people have to work and spend time away from their families, we should also forego other activities on Thanksgiving, including visiting airports, rest stops, gas stations, following news online and TV, and eating out.
- Oh, and is holiday shopping banned but grocery shopping OK? If not, what do you do when you realize Aunt Mildred decided to make her own cranberry sauce instead of buying the irreplaceable canned version?
- The economy is in terrible shape. If people want to spend money on Thanksgiving, why not let them? Shop away. Buy as much as you’d like. Maybe then next year the people working in retail will have even better jobs and maybe they can spend Thanksgiving dinner with their families.
(Flickr Creative Commons / buxtrosion)
Will I be shopping on Thanksgiving? Probably not, but if you tell me that I can get a Death Star Lego set for $25 on Thanksgiving night, I might actually skip my mother's pumpkin pie to go to the store. (Leo keeps saying, "Don't worry, Mama. Santa is magic." But even Santa must appreciate that magic can't eliminate a $400 price tag.)
So gobble ’til you wobble. Then shop ’til you drop. And have a wonderful Thanksgiving.
November 24, 2013 09:57
By Rita Buettner
— 1 —
Thanksgiving is next week. Other people start longing for turkey and pumpkin pie. Me? I find myself craving China.
This happens to me every year at this time. I think it’s because four years ago this November we were waiting anxiously for word of when we would meet the little boy we had been matched with 10 months earlier. It was the Monday before Thanksgiving when we discovered we would board a plane 11 days later to meet him.
So this time of year I find myself daydreaming about walking Shamian Island in Guangzhou and talking with the shopkeepers there. I will, of course, always treasure those moments as we got to know our new sons, that special family time we had, and the strong and lasting friendships we made. I think of the smells and tastes and sounds of being in a Chinese city where we were outsiders, but welcome ones. The Chinese people could not have been friendlier or more curious about us and the United States. And we were just as eager to learn about Chinese culture.
But it’s still amazing to me that I, not much of a traveler, would be missing a country I never planned to visit. John and I never thought we’d travel anywhere we couldn’t reach by car. We only flew to China because that was where our children were. And yet we feel such a deep connection to and affection for the country where our sons were born and spent their first years.
Can you be homesick for a place that has never been your home? Because that’s what happens to me every year at this time—and, admittedly, sometimes other times, too.
— 2 —
I am also looking forward to some pumpkin pie, of course.
Our sons, on the other hand, care about only two items at Thanksgiving: cranberry sauce (the jellied kind) and my parents’ stuffed turkey.
It’s not stuffed with sage or oyster or cornbread dressing.
It’s stuffed with cotton.
It also has this long neck, which landed him in the clearance rack and which turns out to be his best feature.
— 3 —
Leo is in his first year of Catholic school, and we are noticing that his interest in prayer is increasing. He typically doesn’t have much to contribute during bedtime prayers, but the other night he wanted to participate.
“Mama, can I say two things to be thankful for?” he asked, and I told him he could say as much as he wanted. “OK, God, thank you for my family and football players. Oh, and the people who made Ninjago, Star Wars, and Chima. Oh, and the people who made Transformers and Angry Birds Star Wars. Oh, and thank you for God and Jesus and all the saints.”
— 4 —
One of my favorite events of the year is happening this weekend: the Christmas Bazaar at the School Sisters of Notre Dame’s motherhouse in Towson, Md.
The retired School Sisters there make the most beautiful, hand-crafted items. Then they cook pizzelles to sell. So you do your Christmas shopping surrounded by the scent of fresh, warm pizzelles.
My mother and I are usually there when the doors open at 10 a.m. on Saturday, but we have a full weekend this year, and I may not make it. If you go, I want to hear all about it.
— 5 —
When John’s parents came to visit last weekend, we wanted to have a birthday dessert for his father, who just turned 80. I was planning to make an apple pie, but as I was walking through the frozen food aisle, I saw a boxed pie. It said it had all natural ingredients and I just needed to put it in the oven. And it was on sale.
I happily handed over my Daughter-in-Law-of-the-Year Award and bought the pie. And the house smelled of cinnamon and sugar and warm apples when my in-laws arrived.
You’re wondering whether I told them it was my pie, aren’t you? Well, John told them in advance. I am sure he was trying to make sure they weren’t disappointed. But everyone loved the pie. I think they might even have liked it more than my apple pie. So maybe the award I'm actually giving up is Pie Baker of the Year.
— 6 —
Leo has been bringing home paper spaceships that he calls “carts,” made by a slightly older student at his school. He’s quite proud of them, and the other night he decided to teach his little brother how to play with them.
They were having a terrific time, trying to knock each other’s carts off the table, and I managed to capture this movie. Don’t ask me what they’re chanting. I don’t know what language it is or what it means. I just know that watching them makes me smile—and I thought it might make you smile, too.
— 7 —
Lately when I drive Daniel to school, he asks to take roads that add time to our commute. One morning I asked him, “Why do you want to go this way?”
“I want to go the long way,” he said, “because I get to spend more time with you.”
Who can argue with that?
November 22, 2013 12:42
By Rita Buettner
John and I did not take our boys to their cousin Georgie’s burial two weeks ago, but I have been wanting to show them where he is buried.
So one day last week Daniel and I went. We found two sticks and made a cross on Georgie’s grave, which isn’t marked yet. Then we gathered the prettiest leaves we could find to leave there.
We said a Hail Mary—Daniel’s choice—and talked to Georgie. Then Daniel leaned against me and said, “Mama, I’m sad that Georgie died.” And I was struck again by how much Georgie has touched—and is still touching—our sons’ lives.
When I told Leo we were going to go to the cemetery on our way to school one day this week, he told me we needed to buy flowers. He has gone several times to visit my grandparents’ grave with my mother, and he knows what to do. So we stopped at the store, where he picked out a flag and the prettiest bouquet of pink roses he could find.
As we drove through the cemetery, Leo started asking why we bury people when they die, and what is a soul, and why is a soul separate from a body. Then he asked about his baby cousin.
“Is Georgie in heaven?”
“Yes,” I said. “We know Georgie is in heaven.”
“Mama! He’s in heaven!” Leo asked. “Does that mean Georgie is a saint?”
And I explained that yes, we are sure he is a saint, and that the priest at Georgie’s burial said so, too. I told Leo that he will never be reading a book and come to a Saint Georgie who is his cousin, but that there are many, many saints who aren’t in books.
“Yes, and only bank robbers don’t go to heaven, right?” he asked.
“Um, yes, something like that,” I said. “We’re not really sure about that part because we don’t know whether the bank robbers are sorry when they die or how exactly God decides who goes to heaven.”
We found Georgie’s grave easily. I hammered the flag into the ground with a rock we found nearby, and Leo arranged the roses in an arc.
As we stood there, I said, “What prayer would you like to say?”
“Mama, we should say the Glory Be,” Leo said, “because that is the right size for a baby.”
And it was.
Then we said goodbye to Georgie, and we promised to come back to visit. And on the way out of the cemetery, Leo said, “And next time we will bring purple flowers—or pink and purple flowers.”
So we will.
November 20, 2013 11:12
By Rita Buettner
Goodnight, Moon-inspired art project by Daniel, though Abrakadoodle deserves some credit.
When I heard that the Minotaur I rocket
would be launched at around 7:30 p.m. Tuesday from Wallops Island, Va.—and that viewers throughout the Mid-Atlantic would be able to see it—I was excited.
At dinner John and I told the boys that we might see a rocket moving through the sky.
Leo, who’s 6 and loves rockets, was very practical.
“I want to see a movie of the real rocket,” he said. “I don’t want to see a little dot moving through the sky.”
He knew our front porch would not be Cape Canaveral. And he was right.
Daniel, who’s almost 4, was thrilled. He wanted to see the rocket so badly that he paced and paced the living room in his coat and Lightning McQueen hat.
The moment came to go outside, and John and I went out with Daniel. But Leo, who had been in bed, was peering through the windows at us, and I felt terrible that he was missing it. So I went inside and scrambled to find pants for him, assuming he wanted to come outside. In the end, though, he stuck with his original plan and stayed indoors.
Even though I missed the first part of the show, I saw most of it from our front yard. It looked like a large bright reddish dot, moving behind the trees, and then suddenly it vanished as it moved into orbit. It was my first time seeing a rocket live, and it was awesome.
Then I headed indoors, bracing myself for what I imagined would be two disappointed children—one who would wish he had seen it, and one who wouldn't understand why we called a little light in the sky "a rocket."
But, as I do so often, I guessed wrong.
Because as our younger son sprinted inside to see his big brother, he was breathless with excitement and he yelled to his brother, “We got to see THE MOON!"
There is the Moon. I couldn't capture the rocket with my camera.
It reminded me of how one early morning when I was 10, my father drove me out into the country to see Halley’s Comet
. It can only be seen every 75 or 76 years, and I couldn’t wait to see it. But the comet couldn’t compete with the more exciting parts of my experience—hearing a rooster crow and seeing a shooting star.
As Daniel bounced up and down, his big brother looked at him, in that superior way only big brothers can use to look at little brothers. Then he said, “I knew I didn’t want to see a little dot like an airplane.”
Then they both went to bed, perfectly content.
This was the best amateur video I could find on YouTube. I would like to find an official NASA video to share with the boys:
Did you see the Minotaur I launch? What did you see?
November 19, 2013 10:35
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By Rita Buettner