I Want A Tattoo Of A Monkey . . . That Has A Tattoo Of Me

Sadly, our time with Nannie has come and gone. But it was sweet. Last time Nannie was here, TFO was still refusing to be anywhere but on my hip and screamed her face off if Nannie (or anyone else) tried to hold her. She was a whole new girl this go 'round, having a wonderful time with her grandmother, running around everywhere, smiling and chatting away. Andrew continues to adore his Nannie. He was asking me recently about how people got married, and I told him how he'd find a girl one day that he loved so much and that they'd be best friends and he'd want to be with her forever. He immediately declared that his girl would be Nannie.

Mobley excitement continued as we spent last Saturday at Aunt Sallie and Uncle David's house. Nannie, Aunt Jessie, Uncle Jeff and darling cousin Anna-Kate were there, too, and there was cake and ice cream and b-b-q and presents for all the fall/winter birthdays! The Precious consumed his weight in sugar and Nib's diaper leaked and there was much shrieking in delight every time Aunt Sallie's cat (Bean ... poor Bean) walked into the room, so a great time was had by all. (Except Bean, though he was extremely good-natured about all the attention.)


Here are the cousins, sharing secrets as their lunch was being prepared.


Andrew getting some good Uno time in with Aunt Jessie.


Back at home, things are less festive, but going well. Elsbeth is blossoming before my eyes, often full of sweet kisses and little chatterings. I'm picking more and more words out of her babble, like fish ("bish") and flower and slide and diaper ... and my current favorite, Andrew (something like "Anew") usually said with a big grin. I'm sure she's saying lots more ... I've just got to keep listening closely.

I was foolishly attempting to wash some clothes a few days ago, separating piles all over the kitchen, and this time, instead of loading the washer for me, my Nibblet decided she needed to wear all the dirty clothes. At the same time. She was particularly taken with Andrew's new Thomas whambones (she loves Thomas). Hard to tell here, but she's actually wearing 3 pairs of pants, and she was none too pleased when I decided to take them off.



On a side note, I have determined that we own an alarming amount of khaki. Does this say something about us as a family unit? Are we bland? I think Phil's the only one among us that wears loafers (which is an issue I'd like to discuss in a later post ... namely, how does one most efficiently set shoes ablaze, starting with the tassles). But really, perhaps I should start spicing up the wardrobes around here. Red lycra all around!