Anyway we're still working on the spoon thing. Sometimes fingers are easier.
Eventually we figure out how to dip the spoon in the yogurt and get it to the mouth with some yogurt still on it.
Very complicated, this. Daddy was quite proud. (I didn't post the whole sequence of pictures you took, Daddy, because Blogger only lets me put up a certain number at a time.)As well, I had the Husband take a belly shot of me last night and I have come to the conclusion that maybe I actually AM nine feet wide and I just was in denial about it. But I will tell you that I don't really have a double chin-- the picture just makes me look like I do.
That's a bunch of Boychild, right there. You have to understand that Miss Boo was insisting on sitting on the person of one or the other parent when we were trying to take the picture, so it would have been a better picture otherwise.
I get this way toward the end of pregnancy, where I sort of look at the house and go "nothing's ready! we're all going to be naked and starving!" Which isn't true, of course, but I feel better with some blue onesies in the drawer.
Well, I think Miss Boo needs a diaper. Either that or she's doing a really good impression of an outhouse. I'd better close for today. :)
Cheers,
Breanna
That's a bunch of Boychild, right there. You have to understand that Miss Boo was insisting on sitting on the person of one or the other parent when we were trying to take the picture, so it would have been a better picture otherwise.It's been very cold here lately, -9 F right now (-11 when the Husband got up, and for some bizzare reason the temp will drop when the sun comes up), which has an unexpected effect on housekeeping. I mean sure, you'd expect to cook more soup and make sure the fluffy blankies are on the beds as a housekeeper, but what you wouldn't expect is how stuffy rooms get when you can't make any excuse to open a window for twenty minutes in the morning. I can only justify it if we have the woodstove roaring and the gas furnace turned nearly off; this morning the Husband didn't have enough thawed firewood to start a fire so unless I can get one going when the wood is thawed, the baby's room is going to continue to smell like the overnight diaper pail and our room is going to continue to smell like... breathing the same air all night. (Eeeeeeeeeew.) One can only hope that it's only pregancy-nosed ladies like myself who can smell these unique smells.
I went to the thrift store yesterday--because I am cheap, you should know this-- and went trolling through their baby section because there's a stupid law coming into effect in February which will take all the children's things out of thrift stores for a while. (It will be illegal to sell any children's product--including t-shirts-- that you can't prove is lead-free. This applies to used merchandise as well as new, therefore thrift stores have to landfill all their kids' stuff because they can't afford to test it. That's right, the gov'mint wants us all to have mercury in our CFL light bulbs, but an untested Elmo shirt is too risky.) Anyway, I got a whole bunch of newborn-sized onsies, outfits, and jammies for Boychild and three new books for Miss Boo for $7. So I felt pretty good about myself.
I get this way toward the end of pregnancy, where I sort of look at the house and go "nothing's ready! we're all going to be naked and starving!" Which isn't true, of course, but I feel better with some blue onesies in the drawer.
Well, I think Miss Boo needs a diaper. Either that or she's doing a really good impression of an outhouse. I'd better close for today. :)
Cheers,
Breanna
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