We ended our day at Goma and Aunt Debbie's, eating dinner and opening presents with cousins, including one very special Baby Cousin Mia. It was her first Christmas, and she was wearing a bib stating just that fact. Cute. (But in the interest of picture posting privacy, particularly pertaining to other people's children, I will not include her picture.)
But I'll post the heck out of my own.
Stella. She just can't leave cousin Brian alone.Prior to our lovely evening at Goma's, we opened presents, ate pancakes (made on our new griddle) and spinach and bacon quiche (bacon fried on our new griddle), and snacked on Trader Joe's coffee cake (not made on our new griddle). Papa, HeHe, and Granny Jen joined us for much of the frenzied gift-giving.
Stella playing with a Weeble Wobble Tree House circa 1976. Kept like new in my parent's attic over the last 34 years. My kids managed to crack the hollow, plastic tree stump in less than 2 hours.
Heath found that his new safety glasses have many uses, including fighting his way through the boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap, tag, tissue paper rubble.
Christmas wreckage piled high in the hallway. You'll see how it got here shortly.
Mark with his Maryland Terrapin memorabilia. My brother always one to indulge Mark's "Fear the Turtle" love.
Santa brought Heath a wheelbarrow. He instantly put it to the test. It will, in fact, make a giant pile of trash in your hallway.
Stella's new love, Angelina Ballerina. Mommy's new love, Augusten Burrough's You Better Not Cry. I'm almost finished, it's that entertaining.
Heath and Stella's new tool set. She is sanding the tree, and he is, well, drilling a hole in it.
Quite a collection of Christmas morning bedhead, if I've ever seen one.
Stella playing with a Weeble Wobble Tree House circa 1976. Kept like new in my parent's attic over the last 34 years. My kids managed to crack the hollow, plastic tree stump in less than 2 hours.
Heath found that his new safety glasses have many uses, including fighting his way through the boxes, wrapping paper, bubble wrap, tag, tissue paper rubble.
Christmas wreckage piled high in the hallway. You'll see how it got here shortly.
Mark with his Maryland Terrapin memorabilia. My brother always one to indulge Mark's "Fear the Turtle" love.
Santa brought Heath a wheelbarrow. He instantly put it to the test. It will, in fact, make a giant pile of trash in your hallway.
Stella's new love, Angelina Ballerina. Mommy's new love, Augusten Burrough's You Better Not Cry. I'm almost finished, it's that entertaining.
Heath and Stella's new tool set. She is sanding the tree, and he is, well, drilling a hole in it.
Quite a collection of Christmas morning bedhead, if I've ever seen one. Heath asked Santa for a race car. I didn't really believe that this was what he wanted until Christmas Eve when Heath reminded us that he had asked Santa for a race car, and it was the only thing he wanted. I found myself, post 14 mile trail run, wandering through a Toys 'r Us, sweaty, cold, dressed in mismatched running garb, hungry, trying desperately to find the "right" race car for someone who already seemed to have a whole heckuvalotta race cars.
As soon as Heath opened this, he said, This is my most favoritest race car ever.
Well done, Santa.
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