Margot has said goodbye to her baby days of bottle drinking. The funny thing I'm realizing, is that Oliver (first born) was nursed until he was precisely one year old, and then weened entirely. You know, like you're supposed to? Spoiler alert- third baby gets some slack-parenting perks.
Comedy category: the year G was born we had skunks and cats living in cohabitation...in our garage/unwelcomed-animal guest house. The other day Oliver asked, "Remember when our garage smelled like, peanut butter and toots?" Um, no bud, but that's one of the funniest combinations/descriptions of smell EVER.
In more recent news- as in this morning- Marg tried to bite Oliver's head, which ended up being a double whammy when her bubble gum got stuck in his freshly barbered hair. I thought surely I was going to have to shave the poor kid bald, but hurrah for peanut butter (minus the toots)! After a good shampoo to remove the peanut grease, he's ship shape.
|Oliver and his cousins, summer 2010, a month after he shaved his own head to the skin.|
Although summer's acting all shy by hiding around the corner instead of making a full appearance, I've seized every fair weather opportunity for garage saling. I'm amping up my lamp and light fixture collection, so if there's a need out there for a well lit room- contact me. My cousin Megan and I took George out for coffee and garage/estate shopping for her birthday. As a result of G showing everyone her 3 fingers (and her nickle) everywhere we went, a group of strangers at a sale sang happy birthday to her. Perfect fun!
|Adorned in birthday dress and jewelry, carrying her puppy purse stocked with a nickle, Skittles, and a makeup brush.|
Besides treasure hunting and keeping the little persons alive, I've also been preparing for the social event of the season- the wedding of two beautiful people, at a beautiful farm, next *beautiful* weekend. Pictures will tell the story...if I remember my camera.
And you know Andrew's busy being the man of the year.