Monthly Archives: December 2013

O Christmas Tree.

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Our Christmas Tree is decorated and twinkly, ready for Christmas… which is coming soon, I think.

Last year I was just a baby so I didn’t really pay attention to the details of the tree decorating process. Dad had to teach me the proper process, handed down to him from his parents. The only detail we missed is that we didn’t chop down our own in the woods. Next year, perhaps.

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So many trees to choose from.

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Dad, this one.

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Rowan, how about this one?

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Just choose one and put it on the car already!

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Only white lights are okay with dad.

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Place the ornaments on.

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Ready for a Merry Christmas!

Rumor has it there will be presents under that tree very soon. I’m hoping for very fun boxes and ribbons… which usually have toys inside.

Holiday shopping.

Apparently people do a lot of shopping to celebrate Jesus’  birthday. Allow me to give you some shopping pointers for this holiday season.

First you have to be willing to scour the clearance racks.

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Then you have to figure out if the price is a good deal.

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And then you have to be willing to come back another day, one where you might actually walk out the door with an unbeatable bargain in hand.

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Dad and Grammie you have taught me well.

Winter.

It got cold last week and started to snow.

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Then it got colder and snowed even more.

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Mom bundled me up so much I couldn’t move, then she stuck me out in that snow and cold.

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But she did teach me that snow tastes delicious.

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The snow and cold has stuck around for a while now, and mom keeps sticking me out in the yard despite said cold and snow.

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My only consolation is my adorable pink snow accessories, including my bomber hat and fur lined pink jacket. Oh, and eating snow.

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Mom, when will it warm up enough to go back to the pool? Snow is too cold.

Walk on.

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Dad walking me and Twizzle in the backyard.

I am sure all my fans would like to know that I recently perfected the art of walking. One day I was standing in mom and dad’s room drinking a bottle and I noticed an unprotected iPhone on the nightstand. In a moment of sheer desperation of wanting the phone and having my hands occupied by the bottle, my feet willed me across the floor taking little steps. Mom thought it was a moment for the history books but dad remarked that he thought I had already taken my first steps earlier.

No matter how the story of my first steps actually goes, the fact remains that I now walk as my primary mode of transportation, Don’t worry, mom, I’ll still let you carry all my stuff.