Having Winter Fun

Winter Fun = standing in the same spot in the snow, motionless, for an indefinite amount of time, as snow falls around him.

Bedtime

Ready for Winter Fun

The Pictures Take Themselves

What Could Have Been

You'd be looking at a picture of Henry, shirtless with a tophat and 2008 sash, if I could have figured out what the Colorado equivalent of Party Pig is.

Hardly anyone was injured during the making of this picture

Never mind the fact that we showed up at the mall at 9:00 AM on a day that fell way before Thanksgiving. I hate the mall, but Santa loves it. And I love pictures with Santa. And I love coffee, too. Some may speculate that I was overcome by my passion about this photo shoot. Others might argue that the four shots of espresso coursing through my body contributed to the events leading up to my permanently relinquishing the position of parent in charge of Santa pictures. All I know is that it was opening day with the man in red and we were ready to get Henry and Santa: Year Two for our collection.

The last thing I remember before I came to, was requesting a retake (something many before us wanted to do, but instead politely moved on with their unsatisfactory first shot). The next thing I know Greg had his hand on my shoulder shaking it, saying my name loudly.

Here's what went down in the 20 seconds in between as it was explained to me. Apparently not satisfied with the head elf's efforts to get Henry to smile, I snatched the stuffed Elmo out of her hands and began to wave it wildly around while doing a crazy dance (I knew exactly what dance he was talking about) and singing. During one of my signature moves, I flung Elmo around with such force that his stomach exploded, releasing the plastic squeaker inside, sending it flying direcly into the line of famlies waiting behind us, where it narrowly missed the right eye of a four year old boy.

Upon realizing the magnitude of my craziness, I looked down at the sad deflated Elmo in my hand and then at the horrified faces of the people around me. I apologized profusely to the head elf, saying something about really not being one of "those" moms and that I didn't know what happened. Greg immediately ushered Henry out of Santa's village, leaving me to stand by myself in line to pay and contemplate my behavior.

So my apologies go out to everyone at the Flat Irons Crossing mall that fateful morning. I stand by my statement that I am really not one of those moms, and instead plead temporary insanity. I don't get out much these days.


ps. No, Henry is not wearing capris.

white, cold and annoying

Took Henry to go sledding today. It's dumping snow.

Got him all bundled up in his snowpants, heavy coat, hat, gloves, snow boots. Think: the kid in "The Christmas Story".

Got myself bundled up at some point as well.

Drove our rear-wheel drive vehicle through the barely-plowed streets of Boulder (they won't plow the streets here, but they'll spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to relocate prairie-dog colonies).

Went down the hill at the park once, I look down at Henry, hoping to see him smiling, and he has this look on his face that is completely indescribable, but seemed to say "Why are you doing this to me?"

It was plainly obvious that he wasn't into sledding at all, at least not yet, so we got in the car and slipped and slided our way on home.