Around the Hood

Raise your hand if you can't stop taking pictures of babies swinging.

I have a problem.

Just one more.

I can stop anytime I want to.

OK, I'm good.

That is a picture of Maggie's teeth.  If there is a swing in the photo, it is purely coincidence.  Look!  Six teeth!

Noah is about to show you his mad monkey bars skills.

What they say about bunnies is true.  Greta started out as a baby with just one small Beatrice.  We turned our backs for a second, and suddenly she's a mother of seven.



By the way, how hard is it when your oldest goes off to school and makes his own friends?  Friends that aren't cousins or kids of your friends or neighborhood kids or kids that are somehow shared friends among all of your kids. Let me tell you.  It is hard.  My heart breaks for this only slightly younger person who wants nothing but to keep up with her bigger, faster and more athletic brother and his new friends.  Friends whose houses she is not invited to go play at along with Noah.  Friends who are in on the classroom jokes from school last week when Greta is not.  Friends who I am so glad that he has because it means he is a normal, socially functional boy.  What's a mom to do?

There is one other baby picture that I simply cannot stop myself from taking, over, and over, and over.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating:  sleeping baby never gets old.