(To say this sign New Zealand-Style: There's a GING-er in my GARE-age.)After stopping at the Stake President's, we went home and he changed into an island shirt and a lava lava. I was beginning to understand that my boy has become a real Islander, as in: he talks like a Samoan, eats like a Tongan, makes scary Maori faces, listens to the strangest mix of Polynesian Regea music, and lives on Island Time. Adjustments are ahead.
A bunch of Peter's buddies came over to see him that night and it was just fun to see them all together again. They will be able to swap some interesting mission stories. It's great to have him home! (That crazy laugh of his is just what I've been missing.)