Help me help you!

What did I do to deserve such a great baby helper? I tell ya, Patrick is the best when it comes to lending a hand with Miss Lucy. This morning he entertained her while I got breakfast ready, gently spoon fed her some of her banana/raspberry/oatmeal concoction, handed me a diaper at the changing table, and shooed Milo out of the room when Lucy was on the floor tugging on his fur. And then he stood behind me trying to get her to smile for a photo in her new, adorably crazy hat . . .



. . . by snapping some scissors above my head.


Surprise! It's haircut day!
Looks like my fabulous stylist Creed is out of a job.

Chatter: Holiday Honesty

Me: Maybe I shouldn't have posted about Santa on Holtywood, what if I ruin some kid's Christmas?

Sister: Mandy, you have, like, two readers: me and Grandma Nancy in Tennessee. I wouldn't worry about it.

Me: Fair enough.

Santa baby, slip a cutie under the tree, for me

I believed in Santa until I was eight. Not because I actually really thought that he was real enough to squeeze his ass down the chimney, but because I didn't have enough faith in America that it could be organized and calculated enough to be "in" on such a fantastic story.

I'm hoping that there is at least one year where Patrick and Lucy actively believe at the same time - either in Santa or in our otherwise messed-up country. Either will do.

I caved

Against my initial plans, I bought Lu a hat with a big ol' bow on it. I rather like it. But you know what I really like? THOSE CHEEKS.