When I got John up this morning, he said "Hanna is two years old. John is three!" Ha. He's a sharp guy.

When we're driving to Sue's house, he'll often say "we're going fast!"

He got an ouchie last night. He (along with Hanna and the neighbor girl) were rolling balls down the driveway to me last night, and at one point John came trotting down the hill and tripped and landed right on his face on the cement. Ouch, eek it made a sickening sound. Luckily it wasn't too bad. He got a bloody lip, a little bloody nose, a bit of a bruise on his upper lip, and scraped his big toe (he had his sandals on). Poor guy.

Got another page and a half done on Chapter 2 last night. Keep chugging away. The worst part of writing is the constant nagging feeling that this is no good, no one would want to read it, etc... Just gotta write the best I can, let the reader decide...