One of the things I'm afraid to confirm is that Marguerite's well-baby books and calendar of firsts were damaged beyond repair by the flood. :(
Thankfully, I took my notebook of letters to her with us when we moved out of my parents' home. The thing has had a couple of close calls. You'll notice the back cover to be singed at the edges, a souvenir from the small fire in our old bedroom. I started writing in it about a month before Marguerite was born (I wish I had started earlier). It has been three years thus far and it actually does me good to go through the entries and remind myself of what my ideals, hopes, and dreams about parenthood originally were (of course, they've been modified some...). I wrote another letter this morning, the first since she turned 3. I practiced my Spencerian. Does the script look old-fashioned?
Just FYI: Marguerite can read HBO, but when she talks about it, she says "bitchy-oh". :-p