Forty eight hours into our R and R, visiting our friends Dave and Elisabeth and their two adorable daughters and equally lively and adorable Lesher parents outside Dijon, and we got an ambulance ride:
Stefan was outside, jumping over what kids say is a pet grave, he missed the landing and fell head-first onto the corner of the lovely Maison Brulée brick entryway.
He looked really impressive in the waiting room with his head wrapped in a bandage and his shirt covered in blood. Boy did that thing bleed. He has eleven stiches (that we can see, he has another layer under the skin) across his forehead and the perfect set up for a lifetime of Harry Potter disguises.
twenty-something years of "what have you been up to?" 
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