Enjoying: The Christmas lights that are blooming in the nighttime landscape. "I saw a reindeer glowing!" Stephen exclaimed the other night as we were driving home from Princeton.

Reading: Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur S. Golden.

What to Leave Out

Struggling. Trying to determine what to say and how much.

In this very public forum, there are some things I am not ready to share. And other stuff I would love to share, but cannot because it would be unfair to others.

Yeah, I know it is irritating when a journaller alludes cryptically to topics that won't be written about in the journal, but I find myself forced to do so, if only to explain my unannounced break. While these matters have been occupying my time, I have felt unable or unwilling to edit my daily jottings into something resembling an entry.

So there it is. I felt I owed those of you who have become readers some explanation. I hope you will understand why I can't be more informative at this time. I'll probably write about it at some point, but not now, not while it is ongoing.

Please don't worry about me. I am okay.

Last weekend we had lovely, nearly spring-like weather. It was the sixth weekend in a row of above average temperatures, a trend I wish would continue. I took the boys to the playground on Saturday and Sunday to enjoy the weather while we could.

On Saturday, Stephen and Matthew became the little pets of a couple of older girls. I found the four of them in the play car, looking for all the world like they were on a double date: Stephen and one girl were in the front seat, Matthew and the other girl in the back. Stephen looked up at me and exclaimed: "I have two girlfriends! She's 10 and she's 10," he said, pointing at one girl and then the other. "We're 4," he added.

I had to laugh. Months ago I predicted that Stephen would one day help Matthew get girls; apparently, it's happening already.

The next day, however, poor Stephen discovered that not all older women are susceptible to his charms. When we arrived at the playground on Sunday, he spotted three girls, aged perhaps seven or eight, and immediately ran up to them, calling "Hi, want to play?"

I was walking toward the picnic table and too far away to hear their response, but I noticed they looked startled and then amused. Stephen followed me to the picnic table, a mournful expression on his face. "Those girls are being mean to me," he reported.

"Mean? Why, what did they say?" I asked.

"They just laughed at me," he said sadly.

"Ah, well, maybe they just don't want to play right now. Why don't you play with someone else?"

"Yeah, you can play with me," Matthew offered.

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