HOW TO MAKE A CUTE DOODLE EVEN CUTER

Put him in an itty bitty pair of corduroy pants, of course!

BIG SHOES TO FILL

I told The Wog earlier to "go get some shoes on." This is how she came back:




(I didn't realize until I downloaded the pictures that in addition to wearing her father's shoes, it also looks like she donned a pair of his pants!)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MINNIE!

The Wog adores both her Minnie and birthday parties, so it is doubly sad that we cannot join in this year's celebration. I took these pictures for Minnie's birthday card, and continue to learn just how difficult it is to get a good one of both kids. I do think they show how much they love each other, which is, of course, the most important thing.

Doodle, 1; Wog, 0


Wog, 1; Doodle, 0


Doodle, 1; Wog, 0


Doodle, 1; Wog, 1


Doodle, 1; Wog, 0


Wog, 1; Doodle, 0


And all-around goofy enough to win the coveted spot on the front of the card!


Happy Birthday, Minnie! We love you!

SWEET POTATOES FOR THE SWEET POTATO

Sweet potatoes were The Wog's first real solid after rice cereal. She hated them and continues to hate them to this day. The Doodle? Not so much.





So bring on them there taters!

LIKE WOODSMAN, LIKE SON

One of the first signs that we fit in here in New Hampshire after our move northward happened while Marc was at the post office one blustery day. (They don't deliver the mail here--you actually have to go to the post office to pick it up. And what exactly is trash pickup? We wouldn't know. We take our own trash to the dump--and by "we" I do mean "Marc.") Anyway.

Marc was wearing his typical winter uniform--scruffy beard, wool cap, oversized flannel jacket and Carhartt work pants. As he turned from the counter with our mail, a local old-timer gruffly--and approvingly, I like to think--announced, "You look like a woodsman."

Today was very cold, and The Doodle was dressed appropriately, which delighted the grocery store cashier. What do you think she cooed at him?





"You look like a woodsman!"

The Wog and I love our woodsmen, big and small!

BROWN WOGGING IT

I arrived at school today for The Wog's preschool pickup just as the kids were filing out the door, each carrying a decorated brown bag. The Wog emerged last--and ever so stylishly--like this:


When we got home The Doodle got brown bagged, as well:


(Alas, I am unable to digitally remove Piglet's hindquarters from the picture.)

THE WOG CAN'T READ...

...or CAN she?

The Doodle appears to be cutting all of his bottom teeth simultaneously (or at least enough of them to suddenly sport quite the grill) and has been suffering. After I dropped The Wog off at school today, I stopped by the market for some teething medicine. It has been sitting on our coffee table since I got home; I hadn't yet used it or even opened the packaging. The Wog picked it up and was playing with it, attempting to squirt the liquid out of the sealed tube. She grew frustrated very quickly and brought it over to me for help announcing, "I just want to put this on the baby's teeth."



How did she know?

(I've read that children can "read" amazingly well by inferring from pictures, but this surprised me still.)