Moved!

We survived moving! As of Saturday, we are now sleeping in the new house amid a vast forest of boxes. But we made it! It helped that R has been incredibly mature throughout this process.

Friday was the big packing/carting day in which we got everything but the furniture out of the old house. As we were finishing breakfast, I told R that while she ate, I was going to start packing. She thought for a second and then told me very matter-of-factly that she would need two boxes - one for toys and friends and one for her books. (This is how Brother Bear packs in The Berenstain Bears' Moving Day.) When she finished eating, I got two small boxes and figured she would be busy "packing."

What I didn't realize, was that she really was packing. She quickly needed to upgrade to two large boxes. With help from her dad, she actually packed her entire room, and we were able to move her stuff to the new house. It wasn't until nap time that we realized that she had packed her valuables first. Her blankies (she sleeps with three of them) and all her favorite dolls and stuffed animals had been the first things placed into the first box. Amazingly, our mature little girl didn't mind. She knew her stuff was safe, and she settled down for a nap with just her comforter from Baba. (Most of you will fully understand the comfort of a Baba blanket. For those of you not in the know, Baba is my Ukrainian grandmother, and Baba food and Baba blankets, and really all things Baba, just have this wonderful, innate level of comfort about them.)

That afternoon, we rescued her other blankies and friends from the new house, and returned them to the old house for one last night. After dinner, we all ventured to the new house, and R took her Abby doll with her so she could show her the house. Poor Abby got left at the new house and had to spend the night there alone, but again, R didn't mind. Apparently it was just part of the moving process.

The best moment of the day with R came on the drive from the new house back to the old that evening. The quickest route is through a park rife with speed bumps. I have never counted, but I bet there are 20-25 speed bumps along the way. L was not a fan. He protested each and every bump with a little cry. About halfway through the bumps, R announced, "Bumps frustrate L." It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. I just had to agree, and I told her, "Yes, bumps frustrate him." I was still smiling over that one as I tucked my big girl into bed that night.