Goldilocks

I've moved house for the umpteenth time. But this is the first time to move with a two-year-old baby.

Like other parents, we're inundated with myriad advice from everyone we know (and many people we don't know) on do's and don'ts, such as "don't pack the baby in a box." Ugh.

Like the three bears who venture in the story of "Goldilocks", we could never make prediction about what lies down the road. Will Jasmine get upset when we pack her purple dinosaur and fill the living room with boxes? What if she asks to go back home after moving into our new home? Will she love the new cot?

I knew she'd be excited, but I was afraid she'd be a little overwhelmed by the new changes, too. We unloaded the boxes in the new place, played with her, and waited. No, instead of whining, Jasmine simply loves her new castle. And honestly, I'm grateful for this. Seeing her makes me realize, I needn't have worried one jot about this particularly lovely girl.

Did I lose any box or my mind during the move? Not really, except my belt. The busiest moment for me was when I kept holding my sagging pants running after my daughter.