*sniffle*

Ima Work a Few Minutes

This morning when Gavin finished eating breakfast, he jumped down out of his chair and announced to me

Ima work a few minutes, Mommy!!!

He loves fixing things and will spend hours "working" on the cupboards, pretending to screw in screws and fix broken boards. He loves playing with tools snagged off of Daddy's toolbox and messing with screws, bolts, nuts, and hand tools. He's going to be one happy three year old tomorrow...

Crazy

It's been a crazy busy week. And I apologize for slacking on the posts. But we have tons of exciting stuff coming up so keep checking back for fun fall pics. Here is one of my favorites. Gavin was glad to see his sister when we returned from our Seattle escapade ♥

A Lotta Bit

We had a viral sore throat visit our house this weekend. Complete with fevers and ulcers of the tonsils. No fun. At least Aurora was spared the worst of it (yay for yummy breast milk antibodies! If that isn't one of the best arguments ever for breastfeeding, I don't know what is...) but poor little Gavin was one unhappy camper.

Luckily, everyone, including Mommy, is feeling better now and we are back to our plain old regularly scheduled chaos. But we had to get creative there for a few days to keep Gavin nourished and hydrated. He's still asking for ice cream for breakfast every morning (although I have to admit, he was doing it occasionally even before the sore throat episode) as a result of our creativity.

At one point I tried to get him to eat some chicken by dipping it in ranch dressing. I had no idea how *bad* of an idea this was. Poor dear nearly started crying when that hit his throat. So he asked for ketchup instead. I cringed, but trying to keep the tears at bay, I got it out of the fridge and put some on his plate. Knowing full well it would hurt just as much - if not more - than the ranch, I barely put any on the plate (this boy will eat ketchup with anything he can. French fries are just a vessel to get the ketchup to his mouth. Make him eat the french fry and he will use his fingers instead.)

As I was putting the drop of ketchup on the plate, I told him he could try it if he wanted. That I thought it would probably hurt too, but here was just a little bit.

"No no, Mommy" he said, pointing to the plate "Just a lotta bit!"

Uncle Uncle

I love me some Uncle Uncle

Howdy Miss Heidi. I'm lovin the one raised eyebrow!

Awwwwwww

Pumpkin Head

Somebody tell her

To quit growing up so fast

Pa's are the best

and snuggly too :)

You tweeted WHAT?!?

I guess I didn't take nearly as many pictures as I thought I did (or as I think I *should* have) while we were away. But these are by far my favorite shots.

Auntie teaching me how to use a computer.


Note the smug look of accomplishment. Could she be more pleased with herself.


REALLY?!? You don't say...

Baby Number 33

I'll just cut to the chase and admit it.

I locked my baby in the car.

At Southcenter.

On the way to the airport.

An hour and a half before our flight was scheduled to depart


It had been a long, fun, sleepless weekend filled with lots of good food, great company, and fun adventures. I was tired and rushed and worried about making the plane. Talk about a wrinkle in plans. Heather had given me her keys while she paid for dinner, and I had started the car with the remote start, opened the doors to strap Aurora in, looked for somewhere to put the keys, and carefully set them down right next to her.

Biiig mistake.

Next thing I knew, we were standing in the parking lot patiently (or not so patiently) waiting for the cops. They finally showed up after what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to 10 or 15 minutes and then we waited some more for the locksmith (apparently the police are not allowed to unlock cars) who got there just six minutes after the cops had dispatched him. "Without speeding" he said, grinning at the sergeant who had joined us in the parking lot. "This is baby # 33" he exclaimed. More than once. But he had the car open in seconds ("I've saved 33 babies now") and then we filled out paperwork before we ran off to the airport (also without speeding :)

We arrived at 7:12 and I checked my bags (the cutoff for checking bags is 40 min. We had ten to spare by the time I made it to an agent) walked through security (thank goodness for no lines! for once) took the train to the N gates (why is the plane *always* at the N gates when you're running late?!?) and pretty much walked straight onto the plane...

Thank you Tukwila police. And Pop A Lock. Because of you Baby Number 33 made it home safe!

Spaghetti and...hotballs!

Last night Daddy made spaghetti and meat balls for dinner. It's always been one of Gavin's favorites. As we were sitting down to eat, Gavin takes one look at his plate and exclaims,

"Spaghetti and HOTBALLS!"

And for a trip down memory lane, here he is 18 months ago enjoying some hotballs