This letter is coming a few weeks late to you, but I'm sure you'll forgive me: We've just moved back to America.
That's right. We've left the continent of your birth and taken you back to your passport country - which is, ironically, the fourth country you've visited in your life.
This past month has been a lot of bittersweet tears of good-byes. You'll never realize how many of our Cambodian friends kissed your head, held you tight in their arms, and prayed for you to become a strong boy who loves Jesus. You have been the bridge across which so many people have entered our lives. Having you transformed our experience of living overseas. You made us not into a nuclear family, but also helped us become more of a family with the Cambodians around us.
And now, we've left them. I don't know when, or if ever, you'll go back to Cambodia. I hope you do. I hope you understand how our three years there also changed the way we parent you - hopefully for the better.
But of course, you're unaware of all this right now. You smile and laugh and talk. You roll around and lunge head-first after something you want. You've taken to eating real foods, snarfing down avocado and chicken and carrots in chunks, refusing to be spoon fed. You've taken your first taxi ride, first airplane ride, first bus ride. You're growing taller and stronger - but still no hair!
It's been a blast having you along on our adventures over the past month - and I hope we still have many more to come.