twotothree

Gloria is thrilled with Christmas, which makes me thrilled with Christmas.  Of course, she doesn't understand exactly what the holiday is, but she knows that her new favorite past-time is tearing apart the giant tree that appeared in the dining room overnight.  My tree's decorations end about a foot-and-a-half from the ground.

Maybe two feet from the ground.  The kid is a weed.  I can't keep her in clothes that fit.  A couple of weeks ago we bought her a mound of eighteen-month pajamas because she was growing out of the onesies she used to sleep in.  Today, I put her pajamas on and it's like a baby spandex body suit, like some kind of absurdly tiny speed skater.  Her little gut hangs out underneath the hem of the shirt.  I wonder if CPS frowns upon greasing a baby up before getting her into her night clothes, because that's what it's going to come to.

Since she got so many toys for her birthday last month, Mike and I told each other that we were going to buy her only clothes and books for Christmas.  Yesterday her Weebles, Weebles play house, and refrigerator magnets arrived in the mail ...

Overall, life is exhausting, but wonderful.

Exhausted after tearing apart the room and army-crawling beneath the table.