Thursday, January 8, 2009

Bappy BirfBay Beer Baby

Wren thinks singing this over and over is the most hilarious thing ever. She might be kind of right, actually, although at this point I could stand to hear something else.

Wren on the climbing dome her cousins got for Christmas. That is the look that usually says "I'm thinking about doing what you just asked me to do. But..."

Wren's favorite Christmas present this year, or at least the one that's gotten the most play so far, is Rody. Or as she says, "Rode-y Pony." I feel like that picture doesn't really do Rody's eerie stare or bizarre plasticine texture justice. He's sort of like a dumbly menacing version of a dala horse. I don't usually think of inanimate objects as being imbued with any level of intelligence, but Rody just seems really really stupid. In spite of frequent bucking-into-walls incidents, Wren is devoted to Rody, and this morning, with a bunch of dishtowels and some socks, she has transformed him into "Snow Princess Rody." So that's that. Merry Christmas. Thanks Aunt Sarah.

The World's Biggest Floor Piano (yes my mom is that crazy) is currently living under the couch, and only comes out when I know the neighbors aren't home. Jane loves Olive, and christened her with a bunch of chocolate-faced kisses on Christmas morning, which for me was sort of like watching that person in the grocery store parking lot dent your car for the first time. But it's over with and now I don't have to wait in dread. Dolls are made to be played with and clothes are made to be worn and dirt is made to be smeared all over the walls and floor by retarded labrador retrievers.

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