
Stories have remarkable power. Is there anyone who looks at baby swans and does not call them ugly ducklings?
When the sun is setting, between dusk and darkness, there is a moment when the light turns blue. And the world stops for a heartbeat.

Stories have remarkable power. Is there anyone who looks at baby swans and does not call them ugly ducklings?

It has been the first summer that Alanna and Kiara haven’t spent in kindergarten. Despite a few camps and some time at the summer cottage, six weeks of holiday while Stuart and I are still working is a long time to kill.
The girls aren’t, strictly speaking, home alone. Stuart and I have both been working remotely. But they are in charge of their own snacks, lunch and – most importantly – their entertainment. And many of their frieds are out of town.
So whenever we can, we go somewhere. Even if it’s just a dinner and a short walk in Inkoo.



Last summer Alanna and Kiara got excited about skateboards. Stuart and I, on the other hand, have absolutely no understanding of the fine art of skateboarding. We didn’t even know where to start.
The City of Espoo has been running a great initiative called Skateboard Containers, where more experienced skateboarders offer advice to younger or less experienced kids. The girls were bit young, but we took them to one of the containers in Matinkylä.
Rarely have I been as impressed by a city initiative. Two 14-year-old boys took the girls under their wing and patiently taught them for nearly two hours – held their hands coming down, gave advice and encouragement. The spark those boys lit in my girls lasted the whole summer.
This year we’ve had very little time to go practice and many of those skills have gotten rusty. But the excitement is still there.
Now I just need to find them a skateboarding course. As great as the container is, it can only take us so far.





When Alanna was just about to turn one, we took her to a small zoo. She was absolutely horrified of the goats, but determined to go and pet the tigers.
This popped to my head when we visited a small animal park just an hour from home. The bunnies, horses and wolly lambs were lovely, but nothing compared to the snakes, porcupines, giant tortoises, reindeer – and especially the foxes.
The place was thoughtfully designed – children could interact with many of the animals, but only if the animals chose to. And, since it was quite hot, not all of them did. I think it’s important for children to learn, that animals get to choose, too.
But I was practically giddy when we got to interract with a fox. I’d never been that close to one before.
Always a kid.







Finland has an endless amount of small local museums – old farmsteads, workers’ quarters, historic homes, and museums devoted to wonderfully specific things like pharmacies, tar, logging or handicrafts.
Alanna’ animal camp was even held at one of them: Glims Farmstead Museum. And she was fascinated by its temporary exhibition on the importance of animal poo.
I often joke with Stuart about these little museums, as I have dragged him to probably fifty of them over the years. They may be somewhat “homespun,” but secretly (and maybe not that secretly) I really love them.
Every one of them exists because someone was passionate enough to preserve a small piece of history.

Mugs have a mysterious ability to multiply in the cupboad. Years ago, I got tired of million different mugs cluttering the kitchen and donated everything but the matching set that goes with our plates – and, of course, my Moomin mugs. (Every Finn living abroad has at least a few).
Since then the mug situation has stayed pretty much under control. We still have the “adult set” and the Moomins. And a few that are perfect for soup. And my hot chocolate mug (perfect for wrapping both hands around). And the one a dear friend gave me. And the one my colleagues got me when I left. And a few smaller ones for the girls. And…

“Go shopping by bike,” they said. “It’s so much more fun,” they said.
In all honesty, 94% of the time, it is.

As an old Finnish song goes: “The sun is shining, and it’s raining. Summer must be here.”

Alanna started a week-long Animal Camp today so I got to spend a whole day with Kiara, just the two of us.
It is true that twins rarely get enough individual attention. We try, but…
Many parents of singletons admire how nice it is that the girls always have someone to play with – a home-bestie, as the girls call it. But it is also obvious how excited they are when they get äiti all to themselves. And I keep admiring how easy it is when you just have one wish to fulfill at any given time.
We had a good day: we sewed, did the groceries, read, and before picking Alanna from her museum farm camp, we popped into an old tavern (now a coffee shop) with a beautifully preserved courtyard and garden.
Just the two of us.




There is a fine line between creating a magical childhood and ensuring your children know what is real.
For example, how do you explain that dinosaurs were real, but dragons are not? That blue whales and giraffes exist, but unicorns are imaginary? That bats are real, but vampires are not.
We have spent time explaining that bears can sleep the whole winter, that caterpillars can dissolve into soup and emerge as butterflies, that geese can navigate across continents, and that some lizards can grow back their tails.
But humans can’t learn to fly.
