Last night Amy and I decided she should be able go the gym again a few times a week or more. This sounds like no big deal, but I get really scared that suddenly I am going to have Brighton in my arms and work full time, and raise support, and go to church, and breathe, and eat... you can see where this is going. I'm just a chicken. I am going to eat chicken, I am not going to be one. Hon, have fun at the gym. Just pray for my puny chicken heart. ps. I AM looking forward to the day when Brighton will participate in the family workload. It's only a few years away.