Zombies, Smart Kids, and Other Scary Things

Three years ago, I was single. I lived in Alamogordo. I had several great kids, but had never been pregnant. Funny how things can change.

Two years ago, I was married, living in High Rolls, and telling the kids they needed to put their shoes back on and get in the van.

And then there is now. I blame these, to a large degree:



As well as the lady giving the brain development seminar several years ago, who impressed on us all the importance of Omega-3 - long before it made the news. I didn't take my prenatal vitamins, but I was pretty faithful with these. Now, we have this:

Yesterday, in the bathtub, she was playing with the little foam letters, and piped up, "B is for Logan!" Before I could even open my mouth to tell her Logan starts with an "L", she continued, "for Butthead!" I'll say the smart comes from the pills. The smart-aleck comes from her father.

While tomorrow is her official birthday, we had her party yesterday. Tradition is, I bake the cake, Daddy decorates it. I made two round layers and put them together, then stopped to give L. a bath. When I came back to the cake, it was no longer quite so round.

According to S., it was the snipe. Those awful snipe cause all sorts of trouble, from making cats crazy to getting into electronic equipment and making it do stupid things. They are similar to mice in size and color, but they can vanish at will - you may see them out of the corner of your eye, but it is very rare to see one full-on. We know they are there, though. (The sneaky things even got chocolate under her fingernails!)

We had friends and family up for the party, of course, and my little darling played nicely with all of them.

Zombies are the latest thing among two-year-olds, you know. Ask her what she likes to eat, and she'll say "Braaaaaaaaaaains!"

She likes the girly things too, though. Definitely a princess.

And a big girl! If you ask her, she will say she turned seven this weekend - because big brother will be six, and she has to stay one more than him. Again, too many Omega-3s. Definitely old enough to be potty trained - when she feels like it! There are quite a few shots of her unfolding each pair and showing them off. I plan to dig those out when she starts dating.

See, best of both worlds: cammo and pink clothes, and her very own pink shotgun and revolver. Gifts from big sister, of course.

I'm not sure our guests knew quite what to make of the cake, but it fit her! Daddy did a great job, I think. The question mark is because we say she's two, she says she's seven, and nobody really knows how time passes on her home planet anyway.

We started off eating with a fork - sort of. Notice the fingers. Then the fork fell on the floor (I can't imagine how), so she improvised:

Yep. My baby girl is eating her birthday cake with a severed leg. I love that little goofball.

L. is looking for his own apartment - getting out while he still can.



And, of course, there is the inevitable crash. Clutching the drawing toy Daddy gave her:) Happy Birthday, big girl! You make me laugh and amaze me every day. I can't wait to see what the next year brings!