It was supposed to be our evening, just me and my eldest son eating at a restaurant and talking freely about how we’re adjusting to this move to Norway. It ended with CPR and an ambulance.

Let me back up. While Farmor (which is Norwegian for father’s mother) watched my 4 year old, Logan and I went to a quaint restaurant across the street for some quiet time. We ordered our food and sat down on the patio.

Nervous smiles as we’re jittery from helping

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