Odd coincidences happen. Today, we hosted a farewell party for our soon, sadly, not to be neighbors...they are moving to Oregon. Daddy will no bore you with the details, but we met previous owners of our house, and in a strange conversation, the wife noticed your urn and asked about you...then said that her husband had a child die in this very home at the age of nine. The child had multiple birth defects. Is it the house? Is it the mutual connections? Is it a strange twist of fate? Who knows, but Daddy is decreeing that no one else will die in this house ever again. Two is enough. Two is two too many, and two is ironic that you were born on January 2, and died on March 2. Daddy is not superstitious, but he will never bet on the number 2 ever again...it has bad joo joo, and Daddy is done with bad joo joo.
I love you!