My Girl Wants to Party All the Time

We are doomed to fail to live up to Jane's inborn high standards of festivity. Last Monday (the same day that she was begging me, "Please, pleeeease can we have a Martin Luther King, Jr. party with all of the cousins tonight?), she felt we were unacceptably tardy with decorations for Valentine's Day, so she enlisted Zuzu and they took matters into their own hands:

I was impressed.


They were so pleased with the first doorway curtain, they spent the next day after school putting up another.

Was Jane done? Certainly not. Here are the fruits of her labors from the day after that:

(If only she would direct the smallest bit of that energy toward making her bed.)

Next Monday, I will most certainly awake to enthusiastic shouts of "Happy Groundhog Day!" Thanks, kids, for giving me so much to celebrate.

And Here's What Happens When Someone Leaves the Bathroom Door Open

Again, a blessedly milder-than-usual incident. No water on, toilet's still closed, no contaminated toothbrushes, and -- miraculously -- the T.P. isn't unrolled into a heap on the floor. And do you see how again she removed her pants in advance, meaning that the ancient stick of Skin So Soft™ she's pulverizing is all over skin instead of clothing? I promise she does customarily wear pants, so I have to see it as Providence. Or maybe she's just trying to moisturize. Or maybe, next time I see that her pants are off, I should consider myself on notice.

Vaseline Should Really Come with a Childproof Lid

At least

1) she was in the kitchen instead of the bedroom this time.

2) she had the foresight to remove her pants beforehand.

3) the shirt she had on already bore stains from two older sisters.

4) the floor and cabinets were in desperate need of cleaning anyway.

5) it helped with her dry, chapped skin.

The Zuzu Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree (But She Does Fall)

Zuzu likes to take her sled on some sweet jumps.

Jane wants to too, but she keeps missing the jump. 

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

So, Zuzu takes it upon herself to demonstrate how it's done.  "Mine is straight, you see.  So I got on the sled, and I start going. . . "

Is It Really That Hard to Get My Attention?

The phone just rang and I answered it.

"Hello? . . . Hello? . . . Hello?"

Oh, great. Is it that prerecorded thing I hung up on a few minutes ago calling back? Is a telemarketer about to come on? Wait, I hear little kid noises in the background. Did one of my sister's kids accidentally call me?

Wait, those sound like the same little kid noises going on in my own house. I turn around, and there's Ellen, with my cell phone out of my purse and tucked under her chin, grinning at me.



(Can you imagine Ellen's delight when I pulled out the camera instead of taking the phone away? Can you imagine the betrayal she felt a moment later?)

A long time ago, in a stable far, far away.

Adam, ready to play Joseph in our Christmas Eve nativity reenactment.


Adam, doing some mid-performance improvisation. He pulled his robe over his face and said, "This is my helmet. I'm Dark Vader." Then he turned to Jane (playing Mary) and said, "You are part of the Rebel Alliance, and a traitor. Take her away!"