K, we get it, you can crawl, but you’re being a nosy-rosie about it.

For the first week or two crawling, you were like:

“I can go three feet over here to mama, or back over here, to dada.”

Now you are just into everything.

And, second kid, we can’t stand over you constantly like we did with H.

So H is playing, I am making coffee, mom is getting dressed for work, and you are essentially coming and going as you wish.

You pick up everything, open every drawer, chew every item, and rummage your way through the entire house.

So much so that when mom catches you, she sometimes calls you “Nosy-Rosie.”

You were in the bathroom this morning propped up on the open bottom drawer chewing on a hairbrush.

I asked what you were doing, you startled and looked at me like I caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

Bending down, I scooped you up giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

You are so curious and perfect right now.

I love you.

–Dad

Well, we survived Mexico.

It was a long weekend – a long drive that is – and we found enough gas to get down and back.

It turns out that the gas shortage was a little over-blown.

We did make it out to see the Amistad dam.

My grandfather worked there years ago.

The issue was that the border checkpoint was two miles closer to the highway than it was the last time I was there.

So we crossed through the checkpoint leaving, and nobody even waved at us.

We took pictures by the statues on the dam, the checkpoint into Mexico is another hundred yards away.

When we finished we piled back in the car and drove back to the U.S. checkpoint.

The Border Patrol guy came out, and when I rolled down my window, he asked for our passports.

Apparently you need passports to go to Mexico and back now.

When I was in high school and college, you could go across just for the fun of it.

I remember going to Mexico to eat dinner at an old steakhouse with my grandparents years ago. The host knew them by name.

Nevertheless, I told the agent we didn’t have passports.

So he asked for our driver’s licenses, and if we were U.S. citizens.

We gave them to him and said that we were.

He came back from his booth a minute later and asked:

“Are you really 6’7″?”

We laughed and nodded as he told us to have a good day.

The way mom probably tells this story is that her and her babies were essentially arrested in Mexico.

In the end, I am not sure there was a lot of peace to be had seeing my grandparents house again.

Being there was just sad.

It felt like I had to shut the door on a long chapter of my life.

I don’t have a home I grew up in and out of to go back to.

My parents are still in the house I went to high school in, but my grandparent’s house was the last place I can remember always being a constant.

Nothing is a constant though is it?

We are all just passing through.

I am so glad I got to pass through this life with you.

I love you.

–Dad