The Easy One

The two of you are min yin and my yang - two exact opposites who somehow manage to complete our family in a manner that couldn't be more perfectly designed had it been intentional. If your sibling is the yang - fast, hard, solid, focused, hot, dry and aggressive, associated with fire, sky and the sun - then you are surely the yin - slow, soft, yielding, diffuse, cold, wet and passive, associated with water, earth and the moon.

Over the last two years yang's transition to our family has had an intensity to match their fiery personality, while your transition has been much more subtle and tranquil. Now though, now that some of your sibling's fire is better channeled toward positive outlets and appropriate approaches you are finding your opportunity to use your voice. To challenge injustices previously endured so as not to rock the boat, to show the world (and more importantly our family) that while you are soft and yielding you have something to say too, to test the waters and the promises that define our family at its core.

The day we arrived in Addis Ababa to finally become your new mommy and daddy forever, as your friends shouted your name in recognition of our arrival, you glanced up steadily and walked directly toward me. You placed your hand in my hand and led me to the orphanage gate. You never looked back. That night, our first night together, you buried your face in my chest, tucked your body into mine, and fell fast asleep while stroking my arm. Your heart was wide open and I was your mommy. Really, it was that simple - you were the easy one.

Now, almost exactly two years later, I sometimes get frustrated with your challenges. I wonder why you have decided now, after all this time, to try and pull things that we would have never seen from you a year ago. But then I remember. You need your time too. You've been the easy one and you've loyally and diligently carried out your role for two straight years. Now that your sibling is starting to build a true foundation to stand on, you realize your time has come. Deep in your heart there is still doubt. You still carry a profound fear that if you mess up big enough all of this will be over - that we can't really be your family forever.

Today you made your daddy cry. He was crying with pride right alongside you as you wept into his shoulder after admitting, with a clear and honest voice, to your entire family that you knew you had messed up and caused others pain. As your deep wails of fear and shame escaped your little soul your daddy and I basked in pride at your monumental accomplishment and wept alongside you as we felt your pain.

I suspect you will always be the easy one. My pledge to you though, is not to take that for granted. My role as your mommy is not something I can take lightly. You've expressed clearly that you do not feel safe when there is yelling in the house. I am the yeller, and I have pushed you away with my volume on more than one occasion. You are a thinker. You want explanations and answers, not heavy-handed demands. Your heart remains wide open, and, as a result, is more exposed and easily hurt but also available to give and receive volumes of love. You need a slow and gentle approach and lots of hugs afterwards. You still have big, big hurts tucked away in the big heart of yours, and I think you just may be ready to set some of them free or at least share them with us so we can help you manage their weight. You may be the easy one, but that doesn't mean I can sit back and enjoy the ride. I must be as intentional with you as I am with your sibling, just in a wholly opposite manner.

The Sunday After the Party

What does Ashagre do when Elsa's soaking up all the attention for her birthday or self-absorbed in present bliss? He plays it cool and waits for a chance for some quality time with his daddy. Then he reminds us that all we have to do to finish his room (minus framing his door, putting up some baseboard, and finishing his closet) is hang a few things on the wall.

Figuring out what they're going to make.

Learning how to use a hammer.

Very proud of his bird feeder!

And his own bedroom that he designed himself.

(Picture posts seem like an inviting way to get back into blogging again.)

Little Man Turns Seven and It's Epic

I need one more day in my weekend this week. Today we've officially been coming off the high from Ashagre's birthday week, and I'm plain worn out. This was the first birthday where Ashagre had American-sized expectations for his big day. He had been counting down the months and the days since at least last October after we wrapped up Elsa's birthday. He has had a detailed vision for what he wanted to do and what presents he expected to open. While his ideas changed from time to time, his enthusiasm never waned. Little Man's a lot like his Momma, and I loved sharing his excitement with him while remembering planning my own 7 year old birthday.

His requests were pretty straightforward. He wanted a party at our house with water on the trampoline. He wanted to invite everyone from his kindergarten class and a few other friends. He wanted a pinata. He wanted pizza for lunch, chocolate cake with strawberries and for us to sing him Happy Birthday. For presents he hoped for a skateboard, Heely's, and legos.

We were happy to deliver. The big bash was Saturday and it went off without a hitch. Anticipating 20+ kids and their parents we added to his vision of water on the trampoline with an 18 foot inflatable water slide in the front yard. After a short rainstorm in the morning (in August in southern California) the sun came out and the temperatures rose. By the time the kids started arriving the water at in the splash pool at the bottom of the slide had warmed up and the day was gorgeous.

Brent and I were a little nervous about hosting at our new house, especially 45 people, but it accommodated everyone really well (especially since Brent has made the garage into such a pleasant man-cave that we could use it as a shady space to hang out and keep all the food out of the sun). The water slide was fast and the kids LOVED it (as did Brent and Uncle Woosha Dog). There were squirt gun wars, scooters and cars zipping around everywhere, pinata smashing, some serious lego building in the playroom, plenty of bouncing on the trampoline, and lots of time for parents to reconnect after a few months of not seeing each other over the summer.

Ashagre, in his typical fashion, kept a pretty low profile, but always had a huge grin on his face. I'm not certain if it was everything he had dreamed it would be, but I would guess it was pretty close.

Unfortunately, we only have our phones to take pictures with these days and they don't capture active kids very well. Luckily Uncle Woosha Dog took on the photography duties for a while (thank you!).

My mom always made our pinatas growing up. I couldn't be outdone;
therefore, I had a daily date night with a pile of shredded newspaper and
 some flour and water paste every night of the week leading up to the party.

His special birthday hat made for him at camp the
day of his birthday.

The night of his actual birthday he chose dinner - sushi
(or Shoe-shi as he calls it) followed by ice cream - and
we let him open the presents that had arrived.

His one big present from us - in Ethiopian colors.

Of course, there were a few things here and there for Elsa.

We let him continue to open presents in the evening
as they arrived. Here's his second wish, Heely's shoes.
Thanks Grandma Wendy!

The morning of the big bash. Getting used to his new
board and already looking like a pro.

The "Volcano" was delivered early (before I had gotten out of my pj's) and
was set up in the mini rainstorm.

Ashagre sizes it up.

The shark pinata was completed not long before the guests were supposed
to arrive. Finishing touches were made with Sharpies and magic markers.

Kids started arriving and immediately tried out the slide. I, along with the first few parents there, had visions of broken arms. A few ground rules were set, namely, only two people down at one time. Elsa, of course, is one of the first ones down and, by far, got in the most slides over the course of the day.

This one looks painful, but she was LOVING it.

All lined up for the pinata, smallest to tallest. Notice Izaak, Ashagre, and
Elsa playing it cool in the back. They agreed to go last and use their baseball
skills to clean up.

Make a wish!

You know Uncle Woosha Dog couldn't resist the water slide.

Ashagre decided to give it a shot once some of the guests had gone home
and it wasn't quite so crazy.

He loved it as well.

She was so cold and tired.

But she couldn't resist, one more slide (or another, or another).

Eventually most of our friends said goodbye and we retreated to the playroom
so Ashagre could open his last presents. Thanks to Uncle Woosha Dog and
Aunty Laurie, my kids will know what vinyl is. Oh, and wish number three,
legos, was fulfilled and then some by his friends.

Look What You've Become

Confident, relaxed, silly, strong, and joyful.

Strong, focused, vibrant, proud, and playful.

Determined, controlled, hilarious, and a little bit sassy.

Promoted

Tonight the kids said goodbye to kindergarten and first grade. They ceremoniously walked on stage after their name was called, hugged their teachers, and passed through the white arch as newly promoted first and second graders. In all honesty, the promotion ceremony, while sweet, didn't move me anything near as much as Elsa's kindergarten graduation last year. Both Brent and I had had pretty rough days at work and were just happy to be able to sit in the grass with the sinking sun warming our faces, releasing the stresses of the day and cheering enthusiastically during our kid's five seconds on the stage.

After putting the kids to bed I casually picked up Ashagre's end of the year progress report and starting reading.

"Ashagre is an excellent listener for others!"

"Ashagre knows the names of the days of the week in English, Spanish, French, and German," (I bet, with a little reminder, they could add Amharic and Sidaminga to that list).

"Ashagre worked together cooperatively with his group to complete the group project. His Habitat books were thorough and informative. I hope he learned as much about his Habitat (the ocean) and the blue whale as I did!"

"What a treat it has been to watch Ashagre blossom this year! He has made tremendous growth academically, socially, and emotionally this semester. Ashagre is a loving boy who wants to please and is eager to learn. He has made many friends at school and is quickly learning the culture of America as well as that of VCS. He is always willing to help others and shows empathy for others. Ashagre comes to school ready to learn and have fun with his friends. I am extremely proud of Ashagre's growth. I know he will continue to make many strides in first grade as well. I will miss Ashagre!"

Of the 38 criteria Ashagre was graded on, he either already had the highest mark or made improvement from the first semester to the second on 36 of them. He has learned so much over the past school year. He went from not being able to recognize all of his letters to knowing all of their sounds and starting to read simple words. He has morphed from a timid little boy (arguably the shyest in class) to a confident friend that is excited to participate in whatever his teacher throws at him next and loves to be wherever the action is.

Two years ago: the little boy that delighted in the opportunity to look
at books (even if he didn't know he was looking at them upside down).

The (much larger) little boy that still loves books and is now starting to read -
posing next to his ocean habitat during the last week of school.

From Elsa's progress report:

"She continues to love books and she's developed many skills so that she may read them independently."

"Elsa is a confident speaker, always taking a turn at magic circle and doing presentations."

"Elsa worked cooperatively in the pond group to complete the project. She was very enthusiastic about her animal, the duck, and built connections to her research and ducks she sees in the real world. Elsa was an enthusiastic presenter who stayed on-topic as she shared her zoo exhibit with the community."

"She continued to love helping and leading."

On the way to school this morning Elsa announced that she would be tying her own shoes today (I hadn't had a chance to do it before we had to get out the door). Ashagre cheered her on with a ready, set, go! and she did it on the first try. The second one was even easier.

Elsa with her baby duck and her group's pond habitat.

Tonight my pride for my kids is palpable. It's nights like these I allow myself to indulge, just for a moment, in the sheer magnitude of what they've been able to accomplish in little over a year. As I've mentioned before, I feel strongly that I don't want my kids' early traumas to solely define them. On the flipside though, I hope they can one day appreciate how brave, strong, smart, adaptable and purely amazing they really are. In just one year in the American school system, they have not only learned to communicate in a new language, read, write, and do basic math pretty much at grade level, but they've assumed many of the nuances of a culture far different from that of their birth country. They've learned to cooperate and interact in a school that purposely teaches non-violent communication and other social-emotional skills after surviving life in institutions where fists, pushiness, and manipulation reign supreme. They've conquered paralyzing fears.  They're learning what it means to be part of a family after loosing their first families. They're learning to walk and speak with confidence, try even when they might fail the first few times, and trust in their innate abilities to accomplish anything the set their mind to. If someone told me someday that they'd learned to fly, I don't think I'd be all that surprised.

Name That Kid

Prologue: This post may come off as kind of tongue-in-cheek, or worse off, disrespectful of our son or the importance of names and naming, but it is absolutely not written with any such intentions. It's an honest request for new ideas. Please interpret it as such.

Ashagre and Elsa came home on IR-3 visas, which, technically, means that we physically saw them prior to their adoption and that a full and final adoption was completed in Ethiopia prior to them flying to the United States. As a result, when our plane touched down in Los Angeles, the kids were instantly U.S. citizens. Without any effort on my part their social security cards and certificates of citizenship arrived in the mail a few weeks after we were all home as a new family of four. The adoption was complete - except for one thing. Except for re-adoption.

Re-adoption occurs in the United States and allows you to get a U.S. birth certificate for your kids. It is a means of documenting the parent-child relationship under U.S. law. It is not required with an IR-3 visa, but highly recommended by adoption agencies. Their are stories out there of college-aged kids having huge difficulties when they tried to leave the country for the first time, say for a study-abroad program or some such adventure, because they hadn't been re-adopted in the U.S.

We've had every intention to re-adopt our kids, yet nearly a year and a half later, it has yet to happen. I have the paperwork; I think I understand the process and know how to do it without paying a lawyer to help us, but one little thing keeps hanging us up, stopping us from even taking the first step - Ashagre's middle name.

You see, per Ethiopian naming traditions in which a child is given their father's first name as their middle name, on paper, both of our kids have Brent as a middle name as a result of the adoption process in Ethiopia. Re-adoption is our chance to change this. We have always intended to give both kids new middle names; however, we cannot come up with something we like for Ashagre. Elsa was easy. She's getting my middle name, Renee. Its a beautiful name, Elsa Renee Safranski and a nice way to claim her and pass along a part of our family's history while respecting her Ethiopian heritage by keeping her Ethiopian first name. (Recently she asked us what her middle name was and we explained that, technically it was Brent, but that we were going to change it to Renee like mommy and she was ecstatic).

We would like to similarly give Ashagre a middle name; however, finding a family name to sandwich between Ashagre and Safranski has proven to be challenging. In fact, finding any name to sandwich between Ashagre and Safranski has been quite challenging.

Let me explain:

• My brother's name is Shea. Ashagre Shea Safranski is a bit of a mouthful, but doesn't sound too bad. The initials, on the other hand, leave something to be desired. A.S.S.
• My dad's name is Lyle. Ashagre Lyle Safranski sounds ok too; however, we were sort of hoping for a middle name that he could go by as his first name if he wanted to someday (not that we hope he does; we love the name Ashagre), and Lyle just seems a bit old-fashioned (which, by the way, my dad is not, in any sense of the word).
• My grandfather's names were Elmer and Bill. Nope.
• My last name is Corey (hence us often referring to our family as the Coranski's), but I don't particularly love the sound of Ashagre Corey Safranski.
• Brent's dad's name is Mark. Ashagre Marcus Safranski (Ashagre Mark Safranski could work too) is one name we haven't entirely ruled out; however, then Ashagre does not get a name from my side of the family.
• Brent's grandfather's names were Richard (Brent's middle name) - too much of a mouthful - and Harvey. Nope again.
• Brent really liked the sound of Ashagre James Safranski. While it is not a family name, we were considering it until I looked up the meaning of James (the supplanter; one who wrongfully or illegally seizes and holds the place of another). I don't think we could have come up with a more inappropriate meaning if we had been searching.
• Another option would be to keep Ashagre's original Ethiopian middle name, his birthfather's first name. Without sharing much, I feel comfortable saying that Ashagre knows and very much loves his birthfather. My fear with this one is that Ashagre might someday question his place in our family if he was not given a family name or even a name from Brent and me when Elsa was. Adoption can leave people with pervasive insecurities about their place in the world and in their families, and I don't want to inadvertently play into any of this with Ashagre. On the flipside, I don't want to trivialize the importance of Ashagre's birthfather. This opens up the option of two middle names - that of his birthfather and one that we choose for him.

As you can see, we've given this some thought. We just haven't been able to come up with a solution that we really feel great about. I've considered asking Ashagre, especially regarding his birthfather's name, but worry that it might be too much for him to handle. I don't want to put him in a position where he feels like he has to choose between his Ethiopian family and ours in any way.  Even though we would not interpret any choice he made in this way, I could see how he might feel uncomfortable having to choose.

So, in a last ditch effort to discover the grand solution I'm throwing it out to all of you, faithful blog readers (who are getting more and more faithful as the days between posts stretch longer and longer). Do you have any ideas? At this point, any good name is a possibility, or, if you really like one of the options explored above let us know. Don't worry, we won't let the internet name our kid; we may not use any suggestions that result from this blog post, but we also know there are many of you out there that might just have an idea that we haven't come up with. Here's a bit more information that may help you come up with the perfect middle name for Ashagre:

• For those of you that have never met us in person and haven't been reading this blog since the beginning, Ashagre's name is pronounced: A-SHOG (rhymes with dog) - RAY.
• Ashagre means the transition, or the bridge between two places.
• Ashagre's birthfather's name is Tsige, pronounced SIG (rhymes with big) - AY (rhymes with pay)

So, what have you got? Please help us come up with the perfect middle name for Ashagre so we can re-adopt the kids.

For Our Sons

It’s unlikely but possible that you could get killed today. Or any day. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. Black maleness is a potentially fatal condition. I tell you that not to scare you but because knowing that could save your life. There are people who will look at you and see a villain or a criminal or something fearsome. It’s possible they may act on their prejudice and insecurity. Being black could turn an ordinary situation into a life-or-death moment even if you’re doing nothing wrong. 
-Written by Toure.

Ashagre has been my snuggler from day one. The very first night we slept together as a family of three - me, him, and his daddy - in Ethiopia he buried his face in my chest and fell quickly asleep while stroking my arm wrapped protectively around his little body. Lately our best snuggling takes place in the early morning, right after I wake him up for school and before I turn the light on. As soon as he hears my voice, his arms shoot out from underneath his warm comforter into the dark of the morning and start sweeping the air. I find his flailing arms and scoop up his warm, still sleepy and loose, much bigger than a year ago, body and hug him tight. He melts into me with the biggest hug a six year old boy can muster for his momma. If I let go and set him back down on his bed too early, his arms shoot out again demanding for me to pick him back up and hug him some more. I love this fleeting moment the two of us share each morning before the chaos of the day day begins. I feel like its my chance to fill him up for the day before sending him out into the big world to learn, love, and grow.

This week I haven't been able to hug him tight enough. This week, the terrifying reality that no hug or anything else I can give him is enough to protect him and keep him safe from this crazy world we live in is too close to the surface of my thoughts.

**********

We're running late for no particular reason other than we just didn't get out of the door on time. The kids burst out of the Prius (careful with your car doors please!) in the loud, frenzied ball of early-morning energy that marks our days. Elsa shrieks and sprints to the entrance of the coffee shop. Ashagre is doing that booty-shaking half swagger half skipping while hanging on your arm and singing/shouting gibberish thing that he does. I stop and muster my calmest voice. "Ashagre, take a few breaths with me. You're not ready to go into the coffee shop. No, real breaths. Deep from your belly. Slow." He makes a half-hearted attempt at this skill he used to outright refuse to do but has lately improved on after seeing his sister receive so much praise for using it so well. His breaths never really qualify as deep or calming, but he hears me and pulls it together, at least a little bit.

We go in and get in line - the same line we stand in every morning. The same line that passes right next to a counter with an abandoned scale of some sort sitting on top of it. It's been there for months. Today, Ashagre just can't stand the temptation and/or can't muster the self control. That scale has buttons - buttons he just has to push. My boy LOVES buttons. Beep! His hand darts back to his side. I give him my momma's serious look and send him to sit in a chair in a quiet corner of the coffee shop while Elsa and I wait to order. An over-reaction for a minor infraction, you say? Maybe. But recent headlines flood my frontal cortex.

How do I tell him, without robbing him of the beautiful confidence that has been slowly blossoming over the past year, that minor offenses such as the one he just committed (or less) could get him killed someday? How do I let him know that even if he is better behaved and better dressed and better spoken than his white peers someone might see him as a threat? How do I explain to him that as a black boy in America he always has to be aware of his surroundings? How to I tell him he should enjoy wearing his favorite hooded wetshirt now because in a few years he'll need to consider changing his look to something less threatening? How do I encourage him to no longer fear police men (a deep rooted fear he brought with him from Ethiopia) while explaining to him the potentially lethal consequences of running from those same men when he is just a little bit older? How do I, his white momma, teach him to survive in this country where his particular mix of sex and skin color are still a potentially deadly combination?

Trayvon Martin is dead because he was a black boy living in America. The person that pulled the trigger has not been arrested. Trayvon is not just someone's else's son from across the country that you see on the nightly news. Trayvon Martin is my son. Trayvon Martin is your son too.

If I can find one positive thing that has come out of this horrible crime it's that the internet has been flooded with a wealth of well written lessons for inexperienced mommas of black boys. For mommas in general. For all of us. Please take the time to read some of the links I've shared below. This isn't just Trayvon's family's loss; their issue. It's not just mine, and other mommas of black boys, either. Mull them around a bit. Keep the conversation going. Silence is the best perpetuator of this craziness. For Trayvon. For Ashagre. For our sons. For all of us.

Wise words from people with much more experience than I have. If you can't read all of them please at least read the first (I'm making this one mandatory):

How to Talk to Young Black Boys About Trayvon Martin

My Twelve-Year-Old Son Knows He Could Be Trayvon

No Apologies: On the Killing of Trayvon Martin and Being "Good"

Talking About Race With Our White Kids After Trayvon's Murder

Describing vs. Ascribing: Digging Deeper When Talking About Race

Trayvon Martin, White Denial and the Unacceptable Burden of America (Stick with it. There's some important information in there. It might make your skin feel prickly. Sit with it and consider why. And, yes, I am completely aware that his last paragraph trivializes this post.)

On Being Green

Both kids are currently wrapping up their True Colors unit at school. Over the past few months they have been learning about themselves - strengths and weaknesses, physical appearance, and the qualities that make them who they are. This is a foundational unit at their school in which kids build an understanding of what it means to be human - how we are all alike and ultimately have the same basic needs, yet how we are all also uniquely individual. From this basic understanding of humanity the kids can then better learn how to be respectful and understanding communicators and active contributors to the school community.

Last week Ashagre brought home a description of his true color - green. I looked up the source for this information and the website comes off too infomercial for me, but like astrology, the uncanny description of my boy - who he is at his core - was also hard to ignore.

People who's true color is green:

Are problem solvers. They diligently work at finding a way to accomplish the task at hand. They have a tremendous amount of tenacity for figuring out solutions and enjoy the challenge.

Have a "why" mentality. They want to know the reasons why things must be done a certain way. "Because we've always done it that way" is not a good reason. They desire to know the logic or theory behind things. They are very philosophical, and interested in the "why" of human behavior. They are inquisitive.

Are very complex. Their thinking is abstract, theoretical, and conceptual. They are global thinkers that look at the big picture. They use systematic approaches to situations or activities, including personal relationships.

Are standard-setters. They are visionary, futurist, idea people. They are insightful and often inventors, technicians, scientists, or engineers. They establish new protocols and systems, especially for technological advances that may influence society as a whole. They are Einsteins and Edisons.

Are cool, calm and collected. They maintain composure in situations where others may become outwardly emotional. They consider expression of feelings (such as crying) as getting in the way of relationships instead of enhancing them. They look at the principles involved in the situation and can work in harmony. They make objective decisions.

Are intellectual. They can never know enough. They are constantly seeking information and enjoy investigating matter further. Many greens have an expansive vocabulary.

Consider work play and play work. They enjoy work so much it may be considered play. They can find socializing taxing unless they are interacting with someone with similar interests. They are often misunderstood as children because of their inclination toward solo activities.

Have a need for independence and private time. They seek autonomy and don't necessarily enjoy or see the value in teamwork. They usually prefer to work alone and work best without constant direction or coaching. They like to be able to try new ways outside of the norm.

Are driven by competence. They are proficient and capable and feel rewarded when a job is well done. They strive for expertise in areas of interest. They find measurable success motivating.

Are perfectionists. They explore all aspects before making a decision and take pride in getting it right the first time and every time.

Are analytical. They are naturally investigative and able to find flaws and inperfections. They are critical thinkers. They do not take things at face value. They are diagnostic, systematic, and good at asking questions that get to the root causes and inner workings of things.

When we traveled to Ethiopia to pick up the kids last January we had the privilege to meet some of Ashagre's relatives. Among other things, we asked them what he was like as a younger boy. We were told that he could entertain himself for hours trying to figure out how things worked. That he was smart and inquisitive and had a pretty strong stubborn streak. Those that knew him best shared with us a tiny piece of the boy that we are still getting to know today. Reading over this list and thinking about Ashagre learning to ride a bike, explaining to me the steps necessary to make a friend, asking an uncountable number of daily questions about how things work and why things are the way they are, and delighting in his nightly homework makes me think that if his relatives read over this list of green characteristics they, too, might just have to give this True Colors stuff a little bit of credit.

A Day At The Salon

Ashagre volunteered to go first to get his dreads tightened.

Both Ashagre and Tina were equally enthralled with Lady and the Tramp.

Seriously? Isn't he handsome?

Next it was Elsa's turn. She crawled a top three phone books to get her first EVER braids put in. All her life she has watched the big girls get their hair braided at the orphanage while her hair was kept in a nice, easy-care buzz cut. She once told me that on hair-cutting day she would line up with the other little girls. When it was her turn, one caretaker would hold her in a big bear hug to keep her still while her hair was shaved off with a pair of clippers. Today was a special day; it was as if her time had finally come. She was big and important enough to have her hair braided.

Just getting started, grinning from ear to ear.

Even though I did it yesterday, the comb out really hurt.
I took this picture to try and distract her, but full blown
tears came anyway. She was determined though, so we cooled
off in the bathroom and she headed back out for the braiding.

Red-eyed and apprehensively brave.

The braiding hurt a little too, but just for short periods
of time so she stuck it out. I may have to look for a
different braider. What I really need to do is learn to
do it myself.

So adorable in the end. The whole neighborhood came
out to compliment her when we got home. I'm sure her
friends at school will love it tomorrow. Can't you see
the pride in her eyes?

We finished off the day with a huge injera-filled feast in Little Ethiopia. We then swung by the Merkato Market to poke around and look for a big dread hat for Ashagre. The girl who works there, and always remembers Elsa, promised me she will give me the number of someone in Little Ethiopia that will braid her hair for half the price. Maybe she'll be a bit gentler too.

He wants to grow his dreads as long as Michael Franti
and tuck them up under his hat like his favorite musician.