Move Over Mel Gibson! Scout Is Braveheart

Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”

It’s fun. No, really.

Then we discovered the soccer ball.

soccer

My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”

But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…

  • Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
  • Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
  • What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!

What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?


It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year…Isn’t It?

Two days after Thanksgiving our neighbor knocked on our door to deliver some somber news:

The man who lived two houses down had taken his own life.

Radley had told us he woke up in the middle of the night and saw flashing lights outside his window, but since they were gone in the morning, we didn’t give it a second thought.

We didn’t give it a second thought because we were busy cleaning up Thanksgiving since we hosted for 15 people, and the house was a wreck.

We didn’t give it a second thought because a few months ago the house across the street had an electrical fire and seeing fire trucks, police cars, insurance workers, and contractors had become common.

I used to see our neighbor almost every morning running, but I hadn’t recently, and I didn’t give it a second thought.

I spoke to him briefly over the summer, and he seemed out of it, but I was trying to get Scout to nap so I didn’t give it a second thought.

This time of year it’s easy to get stressed out or caught up in the holiday madness. But stop and give someone a second thought. And if you’re having a rough time, stop and give it a second thought.


Thanksgiving-Themed Frozen Yogurt: Creamed Corn?

In case you didn’t know, my blogger-buddy Misty had a baby. And although I plan to descend upon her and the baby (aka possibly Scout’s future boyfriend) soon, we tried* to squeeze in one more prebaby date.

*The Braxton Hicks decided to trick Misty, so we didn’t meet.

So we were going to meet for frozen yogurt. A dessert fiend and a pregnant lady. Where else would we go? Duh.

As I scoped out the flavors online, I ran across this flavor:

WTF.

Reeeeeeeeeally. Creamed corn frozen yogurt.

Who decided that was a good idea?

Veggies and dessert do not mix—That comes from someone who claims her PB&J is a fruit because it contains strawberry jelly.

And why does it say it contains milk? It should say, “Contains Corn.”

What’s the funkiest flavor yogurt you’ve tried?


Piglet Frenched My Daughter: A Mommy Fail

Scout spends her days climbing over Ozzy Pups and crawl-chasing Esme Kitty. Because she loves animals so much, I took her twice (with different “boyfriends”—Kiefer loves it when I say that) to a petting farm.

She especially loved the piggies.

No, I mean she really loved them. And they loved her. Literally.

piggy kiss

Piggy Kiss!

Oops.

So was this a Mommy fail? On one hand, she was exposed to some dirt and germs to build up her immune system. On the other hand, ewwww! Germs!

Not to mention the future dating standards. What if Scout never meets someone who can kiss better than that pig? What if he set the bar too high?


Snow White Was Shorter Than Dopey

Because Kiefer and I are Halloween-obsessed, the day Scout was born (maybe the day after), he declared she would be Carlos for Halloween.

No. Just no.

After buying boy things for Boo and Radley for years, I refused to not have a cute girly outfit for her first Halloween.

So we compromised. She was Carlos just long enough to take one picture, and then she was magically transformed…into Snow White.

snow white

Please excuse the picture quality. Trying to get a baby to sit still and look at the camera is hard enough, let alone fix the lighting.

As you can see, Snow White was actually shorter than the dwarves. She also likes Snickers, not poisoned apples.


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