Every few months, I'll get a message from a random Internetizen asking something like, "Why don't you update your blog?" "Is everything okay?"

Sure, I promised nearly two years ago that there would be more to come. Then I thought about it some more.

This is a blog about our Russian adoption adventure. In the eight months between the time we brought Zoe home and I stopped actively blogging on a regular basis, I realized that more often than not, the blog was reaching for anything to do with Russian adoption. No longer was there a legitimate Russian-specific angle. No longer was there an adoption-specific angle. And I wondered why.

And it came to me. In eight months, our daughter was no longer an adopted Russian child. She was a typical, assimilated American three-year-old, fully bonded with her immediate and extended family. With typical American three-year-old attitude.

Now she's a typical, American five-year-old headed to kindergarten in two short months. With dozens of five-year-old girlfriends filling her calendar with playdates and birthday parties. Ballet, gymnastics, soccer and swimming classes behind her. A trail of broken-hearted boyfriends left behind in pre-school and summer camp. High School Musical 1&2 posters adorning the back of her bedroom door, and parents wishing to drive an icepick through their own skulls as they cater to her demands of repeated listening of the HSM soundtracks in the car.