In Which I Wear my Grateful Little Sister Hat

The days (and children) bounce past me in a blur.
There is so much I want to remember and to write. But I have shifted close to my entire supply of "record the moments" time to the wildly obsess over finding a place to live "hunt for houses" column.

My sister cleared her entire week to help me on the hunt. She put on her school teacher hat when we visited elementary schools, her organizer/visionary hat when we visited houses, and her auntie hat when she declared we would have smores on a school night.

(And I don't think I've taken off the deeply grateful little sister hat since I stepped foot in her home.)
(Confession: I almost titled this post "I Couldn't Ask for Smore". But it registered so high on the Corny-Cheesy index that even I recognized it and rolled my eyes at myself in response.)