A friend of mine asked me the other day how our daughter Elli is adjusting to the new house.


"Pretty well," I said.


Tomorrow she'll have been living here with us exactly one week and in that time she has miscalculated the distance to the bathroom and therefore peed on the floor twice. She has dismantled the new decor hanging on her bedroom wall. She has figured out how to stretch window-blind cord about halfway across her room. (If that doesn't strike fear in the heart of a parent not much will...) She has broken a lamp. She has used her bed as a trampoline/tumbling mat and she has consumed a quarter of a stick of butter. No, eating a quarter of a stick of butter has very little to do with moving into a new house. But it happened because the kitchen and the dining room are now separated by a door and she thought that because we couldn't see her we would therefore never find out. Seeing that just unwrapped stick of butter - organic, grass-fed no less - marred and mutilated by grubby little fingers also significantly added to the "Really? Are you kidding me?" level of our incredulous disbelief and escalating frustration.


So, to recap...yeah...pretty well?