It was actually last night that Papa Sprout decided to give Mama Sprout both an 80s-style Photoshop makeover and a new hairstyle -- Photoshop also does highlights -- and create his polygamist vision of bliss. Unfortunately, since Mama had been doing so much work-travel, she decided she had to go to sleep on the couch, with Da Vinci Code on her face, instead of blogging.

So, it's a day later. Moods somewhat more sober, given the date. But levity, and sprout-growth ever more relevant.

Two years ago, Mama & Papa desperately tried to reach each other for several hours to no avail, saw friends become instantly homeless, searched for friends who were missing, relied on email to talk to family & friends far away, tried not to think about what was in the air, and finally started crying, some time past midnight.

One year ago, we chewed our nails, paced our apartment, kept fierce hold of our cell phones, and offered up some kind of prayers to any kind of God, that our family on planes would make it here safely, for our wedding, two days away.

This year, we shut off the morning news immediately, had extra long kisses goodbye before work, and tried to be "normal." We'll always be grateful, we'll always be somewhat sad. And we'll always be relieved that wee Sprout missed it, and won't be like the 5-year-old we saw and heard, just a couple of months back, walking down Bleecker Street with his mother:

"Mommy! That plane is flying too low! Mommy, MOMMY!!! That plane is flying TOO LOW!!!" Fear, terror, hysteria. Mom with groceries trying to offer comfort on a crowded, hot street.

So many things in the world to fear. One less for little Sprout.