The Differing Theories of Beach Hair.

Her: Glamorous.

Him: Punk Rock.

Me: So-Bad-It-Can’t-Be-Caught-On-Camera.

Nine Months and Fabulous.

It's the Yittle Fings, Part Forty-One.

We were out at my parent's house, and Mom and Ali were picking flowers. All the while, Noah and I were getting swarmed by mosquitoes.

Gramamma: "Okay, Ali - let's be all done now. Your Mom and Noah are getting eaten up by mosquitoes."

Ali: "But we can pick some more because that would take FOREVER! Mommy and Noah are big and mosquito's mouths are teeny tiny. They won't be eaten all up for a LONG TIME!!"

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Ali, consoling me about turning 30 next month: "Well, you won't die when you're 30. People don't die when they're 30 even because they're old."

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Noah laughed. Ali always has an explanation for his doings, so told me, "I think he's pretending that there are clowns in Mississippi."

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We got to Gramamma's house one day, and Ali was struck with a memory... "Oh! I had a dream about you, Gramamma! I dreamed that you needed to go tee tee but I had to move all the spoons because they were in the way. And I was eating marshmallows!!"

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Ali was in the backseat, and she started making a siren noise. Then she explained, "That tells you there is something that will get you. A tornado or a bear or a monster. Or a bad robot."

The Pompadour.

What happens the next day after your hair is styled into a Mohawk while still wet…

Shameless Cuteness.

This is the blog where I allow myself to post whatever I feel like.  So I don’t feel guilty for posting these photos of Noah just because he is beautiful.  Not one little bit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Having a Bad Attitude is Not an Easy Job.

Here it is... The Grandparent Effect in video form. It's gotta stink to get laughed at for your attempts at fit pitching...

It’s All In The Lips.