The other day, Summer came up to me, indignant. "Mommy, that girl said that I'm not summer!" The next time she said, "Mommy, that a little girl had just told her that she wasn't summer anymore!" That's when I realized what the argument was about. It's hard to understand that your name is also a season.

Last night we went to the jazz festival and Summer put on her own show, dancing to the music for the crowd where we were sitting. They didn't seem to mind. She is a born entertainer.

Yesterday, we drove past a new school in Leipers Fork, and I said, "Summer, look--that might be your school when you get in kindergarten."

"No!" she said adamantly. "I'm going to preschool! I am not going to go to a school flower garden!"

We went for a donut run this morning. Out of the blue, she cried, "I can't get this donut to Lukey cause he's up in heaven!" Later in the day, she picked out a baby sleeper for a boy at Target. "This is for my baby brother, Mommy. Look. You can just throw it up there (to heaven)." Luke is still in her thoughts every day.