10 months.

Dear Mila,

December 24th marked a pretty special day for you-your first Christmas eve AND your tenth month birthday. I think that calls for lots of presents and cookies, don’t you?

Of course you do. 

You’ve been busy getting big and turning into a toddler this month. I’ve been busy trying to put a brick on your head to keep you from growing. It’s not working.

You started pulling yourself up to standing on just about anything. You cruise around furniture like nobody’s business and can push your walking cart like it’s going out of style. Daddy predicts you’ll be walking in the next month or so. I plan on carrying you more often to delay the inevitable as long as possible.

You climb up stairs and onto furniture. It’s trouble.

You’ve got a personality like no other. You smile at every.single.person. that looks at you, but if they attempt to get near you (or god forbid touch you) you scream like they pinched you.  I was convinced you would skip the whole stranger danger phase, but clearly I was mistaken.

You’ve developed an intense love for your bunny blankey. That thing gets a death grip on it every time we pick you up out of your crib. You sleep with it tucked underneath you at night and carry it around during the day.

You’ve started refusing your bottle and eating more. I think you might give up the bottle before you turn just like Tyson did. A fact that might make me start crying myself to sleep.

You make us smile every day little Mimi. We are so lucky to call your ours-all the presents under the tree will never be as good as the ones you and your brother have already given to me.

Happy ten month birthday, little girl!

Love,

Mommy

The One Where I Traumatize My Kid By Making Them See That Big Bearded Man Dressed in Red

For the last two years, I’ve stood in waaay too long of a line and paid waaay too much money to place a screaming child on an old man’s lap.  The pictures of said event were always undeniably cute, but there was always a little part of me that wondered if I was traumatizing Tyson for life.

Luckily for me, Tyson has turned the tide and survived this year’s Santa experience without a single tear. I think he may have even enjoyed it.

The bad news?  Mila has now replaced him as the screaming child on the old man’s lap.

The good news?  The picture is still really cute.

Also, since Tyson gave up crying on Santa's lap, he's apparently picked up dancing in malls for strangers. Turns out that both are equally as endearing and embarrassing.

Here’s to hoping we only have two more years of screaming kids in Santa pictures.  

Chippy.

We have a new family member that I need to introduce you to. No, despite being 9 months post-partum (hello, baby weight-you can fall off now) I have not produced another babe for you to ogle at. Sorry. We have, however, adopted this cute little fellow from the North Pole.

His name is Chippy.  I am well aware that we stole his name from the movie. My son doesn't like change or anything new or anything remotely different.  We're working on the whole thinking outside the box thing, I swear.

Due to the not liking change/new/different things, I was a little worried about the whole magical Elf who moves around our house at night deal. In an effort to stave off any trepidation, I decided to make his entrance to the house a big party complete with presents, candy canes and breakfast. Did I mention presents? Something about you can't kick a gift horse in the mouth, right?

Clearly Mila agrees.

Chippy's presents included new Christmas PJs and 25 Christmas books to open and read each night before bed. The books have been a HUGE hit, but the PJs haven't been worn once because, hello? Change/New/Different.

He liked the candy canes, though. Until he realized they weren't the kind that he had before. Seriously. I couldn't make this material up if I tried.

Chippy's quite the character. We've found him drinking syrup, hanging upside down from our wine rack (something Mommy does every so often), riding Tyson's giraffe, covering himself in stickers, watching himself on TV, hanging Tyson's underpants from the chandelier and sliding down the banister. I'm beginging to wonder if Chippy will run out of places to land in our house. No, really. I'm begining to wonder.....(help?!)

 

 

For the record, Chippy has been busy reporting back to Santa every night if the kids are being naughty or nice. Surprisingly, this knowledge has not encouraged Tyson to sit at the dinner table any longer or stay in bed at night.