My little Tubbas (Amelia) is 8 months old. I can't believe how big she is! She is such a sweet, little angel baby. She is just soooo lovable and irresistibly squeezable. See for yourself:
Oliver, 8 months oldWe had such a fun-filled Halloween this year. We celebrated on Friday night at our ward trunk-or-treat. Last year, we were one of the only couples to NOT dress up. This year, we decided to go all out and again, we were in the minority which always makes for an awkward evening. You let us know if you think we pulled it off...
Is it just me or was everyone and their daughter, aunt, grandma, niece, cousin, and sister a ladybug this year?
I know it's not terribly obvious here, so I'll just tell you- we were an 80's couple. Christian could also pass for Joe Dirt. You decide...
On Saturday night, we went trick-or-treating with the Reidheads. They had an aspiring chef make us dinner at their house afterwards and let's just say I've been dreaming about that meal ever since. Best spaghetti I've ever had. Probably one of the best dinners I've ever had.
Have you ever been throwing a kid in the air, or playing a game, or singing a song with them and they ask over and over to do it again? If they like whatever you are doing, it's always you who imposes the end on the event, not them.
Anyway, the other night, Oliver and I were singing part of the song to Oliver's favorite show, Dinosaur train, and he kept wanting to do it again. So I started wondering how many times he would want to do this, assuming I complied for as long at it took. And when he was over it, I wondered exactly what that would look like. Like ancient sailors imagining the end of the flat earth, I had never seen the end of a toddler's capacity for an activity he is loving, and I was really curious what that end would look like. Would he go until he fell asleep, would he say he didn't want to do that anymore, or would he just throw up or implode at some point? So I settled in the for long haul, and only started singing the song again when he asked me to. Next time you wonder how many times your short associate will repeat the fun activity if it's left to him, the answer is...
61
And the conclusion was as anti-climactic as most things in life. After 61, he just looked at me for a few seconds, and instead of asking to do it again, he asked for a "treat of a pumpkin" (those little pumpkin shaped candies his grandma sent him).
