Mange dør i krig. Det er veldig synd.
Bestefaren min døde .
Many die in war. That is a shame.
My grandfather died.
My 10 year old daughter likes to blog. She likes doing what her father is doing and blogging is something I encourage her to do. She also likes to “loan” my cell phone and she is pretty good at navigating it. This morning I supervised her while she posted this to my blog.
She wrote this on her own blog first. I created one for her before Christmas. Technically it’s my blog as I have the password and administer it, but she is the writer. I think her teacher has been talking to her class about war, and it’s something we talk about at home too. She seems to think a lot about the family members she never got to meet. They didn’t exactly die in World War 2, but that little detail doesn’t seem important to her at the moment.
This post is a version of one she wrote in December last year, Don’t Need Weapons. She also used her blog to write about how she felt about moving from Nordland to Rogaland county (about 1400 km) last summer.
I decided not to delete this because it might be a little intro to my next post. Heather asked me to write something about autism and intervention. I’ll come back to that in a day of two.