Ava cuts a rug with Farrah, Master Clogger...

And Josh, Hula Dancer Extraordinaire...


And you thought that coconut bras didn't come in size 3T? Well, you clearly haven't been to Hawaii recently! (For the record, neither have we..But Josh and Farrah have..).

Yes, I am that good of a mother.

Don't tell me you're tired of Christmas already? I am afraid these shots are not too timely. Time may stop for no one, but Blog Time is perfectly adjustable [Actually: does anyone know how to change the date on a blog post? Is that possible?].

Try to pretend that you're still in the mood to see a Christmas tree and give me a nice sigh of wonderment:

It's tied to the blinds rail, because Penelope pulled it on top of herself. Sounds awful, but it was really funny...once we determined she was fine, of course. Here are the girls all gussied up for church.



Early on in the Christmas season, we had a visit from Grandma and Grandpa George. Though short, it was great to see them and celebrate a little Christmas with them here in Texas.

The Disposal. Our tree, though lovely, was also crispier than a potato chip after the first week. Derek chucked it off our balcony, with Josh keeping the grounding area clear of pedestrians and vulnerable animals. I felt compelled to document the moment.

Christmas in Arkansas! We had a wonderful time with my parents over the holidays. Strangely, we were the only kiddos (adult ones) home this year, so the girls sucked up all the attention they could, requesting book readings every 3 minutes round the clock and shadowing Grandma and Granddad's every move.


Grandma Lewis is a sucker for babies. She saw PJ eyeing her bowl of ice cream on Christmas Eve and offered a bite. That's all it took for Penelope to assume ownership of the rest of the bowl. After 5 or 6 bites, Grandma began to use her schoolteacher voice: "Alright, I think you've had enough." Then she'd either forget she said that (she IS 100 years old, after all), or else she'd cave to Penelope's hopeful gaze, and give her yet another bite. I think Grandma got one bite to herself. PJ polished off the rest.

No matter how old and confused Grandma is, she still gets this knowing, teasing look on her face when she thinks you're up to something. Maybe she thought I was going to swipe her See's Chocolates.. Watch out!

Oh dear. The Pull of the Princess is strong and unstoppable for the pre-school set, especially when spoiled by grandmothers. You can probably imagine how much Ava loves this:

After Christmas, we headed to Memphis to see Craig and Family for a few days. Ava and Alana re-bonded.


A band was formed in the family room, consisting of Cheri on drums; Craig on bass; Derek on guitar (or other way around); and me on vocals. Ha. Let's just say that I did the least damage to the band on vocals, and that no band in their right mind would EVER consider me an asset on vocals (or anywhere else, for that matter..okay, maybe I could sell t-shirts). In fact, a band wouldn't even want me in their audience, in case I forgot myself and belted out a line of the chorus. But the rest of my band, in this case, humored me, or just did their best to tune me out.

Bryce and Jared are the best older-cousin-big brother-stand-ins my girls could ask for. Bryce helped Ava and Alana get their dress up gear situated. Jared chased the giggly girls around the house. The boys helped babysit while the grown-ups went out for ribs (The ribs deserve another post; the phrases life-altering and born again have been used around our home to describe Rendezvous ribs..seriously.).

Another time Bryce and Jared watched PJ, so that I could go out with the big girls (big, meaning 3 years old). We came back to find PJ chilling on Bryce. I snuck my camera in for a shot, hoping she wouldn't see me, as I assumed she'd run for me once she knew I was there. But instead I got a nonchalant glance sideways, and that was about it. Bryce is the man (although he DID get Cheri up from a nap to change a particularly potent diaper. I guess no one's perfect.).


Alright, perhaps I've mentioned before that we have a little tradition on our trips to and fro Arkansas involving a certain outdoorsperson's megastore in Dallas. This started on my first solo drive to Arkansas with the girls. I was driving past Dallas, and looking for a place to stop for a bite to eat and a place to stretch when I saw a billboard for Bass Pro Shops. Ah-hah! I am really not one for fishing, hunting, or camouflage LaZBoys (yes, they are available there), but who can deny a 3-year old an opportunity to see giant live fish, as well as bears and deer and armadillos and raccoons (stuffed, but real), and to play on boats. After many trips to Arkansas, this store has become an unalterable and much-anticipated stop on every journey. Ava LOVES it. Well, Christmastime at Bass Pro Shops, it turns out, is quite an event. Santa was there (FREE pics with Santa. Ava looked at us like we were out of our minds when we suggested she sit on that guy's lap. PJ didn't have a choice, but she screamed nonetheless.). And there were all sorts of trains and guns and opportunities to practice killing things to celebrate the birth of Christ (yes, that was irony). But the highlight, or the most fascinating, element was the Bass Pro Shops Christmas tree.

I never would've imagined that a once-living BEAR (in the act of fishing with a net) could be used to decorate a Christmas tree, but now I know that it is not only possible, but it has been done.

Also, an albino squirrel...

And naturally, deer...

And with that, Merry Christmas to all creatures great and small! Err..just pretend you're reading this a month ago. Or better yet, you can divide it up and finally finish reading it by next Christmas.

This is BEFORE.

I really didn't think I would let Edward affect my family in any detrimental way. I put off reading the bafflingly-popular series (Twilight, for those of not in-the-know) for a long time, but I caved in and am finishing the final book today. The girls were only alone in my room for probably 15 minutes. There was a voice in my head telling me that I should check on the situation, as I kept hearing Penelope laugh in the most hilarious, mature way. But I kept reading.

Then my sweet PJ came running into the living room, laughing and clutching her beautiful head. Ava followed behind her, with the most (incredibly!) innocent expression on her face. It took me a moment before I realized that something was different about PJ. How did her bangs get brushed off of her forehead so completely? Where were the sweet curls of hair that normally wisped away from the side of her neck? What was that white patch on the back of her scalp?

This is when I should have flown into a rage, but all I could do was cover my face in horror, attempting to stifle the waves of laughter that brought tears to my eyes. Ava (incomprehensible as it sounds!) seemed to have NO IDEA what had come over me, or why I would be having this strange emotional spasm. I tried my best to control my laughter, then leapt to my feet and caressed Penelope's head, only to grasp fingers-ful of loose locks. And then to rub my hand into sharp SPIKES of near-buzzed hair.

"DID YOU CUT PENELOPE'S HAIR!!???????????" I felt it was my God-given responsibility to yell at Ava at this point. I mean, it seemed like the right thing to do, even though I was still struggling with the laughter building up inside me. She was so confused, poor thing, as I careened between laughing and yelling at her. Inconsistent is the worst thing a parent can be, after all.

I rushed into my bedroom room only to find shockingly large piles of my beautiful baby's hair scattered across one area of the room, next to the "salon chair" and a table containing a single pair of child-friendly scissors, sharp enough apparently to cut 16-month old hair. This is what I was able to gather easily off of the floor, accompanied by the instrument of guilt:

And my final reaction was to berate myself for not getting the stupid portraits done that I have been lining up for the girls for the past 6 months. Then I grounded Ava from scissors, which made her more upset than anything else up to that point. AAAAAARRRRRRRG. I suspect this is one for the Annals of George Family History.



I felt it necessary to document the little miscreant's anguish, for future story-telling purposes. You can shake your head in disgust, but I know I won't regret this one.