Merry Christmas!

Almost there!

Stuffed Animal Autopsy

Manner of death: Ursicide

Cause of death:  cotton batting evisceration via dorsal wound

Circumstances of death:  Victim attacked at his place of employment, where he worked nap-time security.  Accused is victim's boss, a preschooler, who did not want to nap on day of incident.

Run, run, fast as you can...

Owen has been asking to make gingerbread men for several weeks now.  All I can figure is there's this one page in one of his Christmas books where a little girl is making them, and he got his mind set on doing the same.  And since I can't resist a Christmas wish, I should be grateful she wasn't making something like fruit cake or eggnog souffle.  So this morning he had one of his cutie pie friends over, and they played Cars, ate reindeer PB&J's (that didn't look anywhere near this cute), and then decorated and promptly dismembered a few gingerbread men.  It was an overall tradition-worthy experience.

Doc says...

Owen looks great!  I managed to get him in on the precise day he was due for his 3 year, 1 month, 13 day check-up.  He thought peeing in a cup was funny, the finger prick was no big deal, the flu nasal mist was weird and the vaccine was evil.  But he would gladly sell his soul for the bubble gum dum dum he gets when we check out.

Kingpin

As he put it, Owen played bowling for the first time when we got together with our supper club friends last night.

His favorite parts of the bowling alley experience:

The Claw in the arcade

The anticipation of his bowling ball's return

The hand dryer on the return mechanism

The reset button

(which Owen may have begun to mistake as the page Daddy to run and grab my arm button)

Final score:  Scott 121, Shelley 91, and

Phew!  That could have been embarrassing.

There's got to be a clever reference to MTV Cribs in here somewhere

We rode the baby bed gravy train for 3+ wonderful years.

And then last week Owen finally called my bluff:

So on Saturday we made the big transition.  (And while a bird did make an unfortunate appearance in that 2nd shot, I assure you it in no way reflects upon his feelings about his new sleeping arrangement.)

And so ends the Davenport family crib's 4th tour of duty.

I've already ordered this.

Tree Picking 2010

Yesterday's post gave away that we have our tree now, but here are some shots of the actual gettin'.  We went to our usual spot beside Shades Cahaba Elementary, so here are pics of previous years for you sappy nostalgic types.

We also made a spontaneous stop to see the mall Santa when we were at Brookwood the other night.

Owen gave him the pedophile treatment.

Poor Santa actually kept repeating, "I promise I won't touch you."  But he did finally persuade Owen to tell him what he wants for Christmas.

Lettuce and carrots.

?

And a few parting shots just to make Scott wish he'd never given me a camera that goes click-click-click-click-click.

Owen helped decorate

 As the lesser known Christmas characters closed in on him, Frosty realized it was a mistake to insist on being called THE snowman.

Though divinely chosen, Joseph still fell victim to First-time Father Fainting Syndrome.

Tooth & Consequences

Just sending out a little pun love.  You know who you are.

Owen had his first trip to the dentist on Wednesday, and that place knows how to cater to kids- free arcade, train table, toy room, token machines.  Owen came home with a whole bag of swag.

So even though I was about a year late scheduling his first check-up, his teeth got good reviews.  Naturally, as the son of a formerly buck-toothed mother and headgear-wearing father, Owen has orthodontics in his future, but for now we'll just enjoy his membership in the No Sugar Bug Club.

And how do you reward a kid for having such a great trip to the dentist?

You shut his hand in the (hinge side!!! of the) car door when you arrive home, and then tell him he'll need to get back in the car so you can drive him to the pediatrician's office for game two of his doctor double header.

I hereby nominate myself for Best Performance by a Woman in a Mothering Role.  

Who would like to second my nomination?

Little Things

I have completed exactly four-and-a-half pages of Owen's baby scrapbook over the last 3 years.  It seems this blog will serve as my main memory preserver, and there are a few endearing things I've noticed lately that I don't want to forget.

• Owen is all about finding new ways to mass-transport his toys.  Most often he's not even taking them anywhere with the purpose of playing with them; they are simply there to fill the space in his bucket, wagon, suitcase, gift bag, etc.  Packing and moving from room to room is the playing.
• Baskets are also a favorite.  He used to say "basset", but now he's got the k sound down... just in the wrong spot.  He says "bastick".

• Many evenings at dinner we have a community plate of apple slices.  Owen only cares for what he calls the "flat part" of the apple.  He eats what he likes and tosses the rest back like shrimp tails.
• The other day he told me that when he "gets borned again" a long time from now, he still wants me to be his mommy.  And he also requested St. Vincent's Hospital as his delivery site.

***If you are squeamish, outclick now.  Hurry!!!

I decided that if you pass out from getting stitches, the only way to lessen the humiliation is to take those stitches out yourself when the time comes.  So Scott and I set up our own little operation in the kitchen tonight and snipped those suckers out (see tiny black dots on center cotton swab).  Easy peasy.  I feel my dignity seeping back in already.

Happy Thanksgiving!

See this bleepity bleep bleepin' cat?

I rescued him from the streets 13 years ago.  For the sake of his health, I rub this nasty paste thyroid medicine in his ears every day.  And of course I feed him every morning.

But today, he thought I needed some extra incentive to get out of bed and take care of him... so he bit me- which freaked me out and made me jerk away- which startled him and made him clamp down harder... ON MY LIP.

Do you know how demoralizing it is to admit yourself to the ER with a cat bite?

Well, I'll tell you.

It turns out it's not nearly as demoralizing as passing out in the ER from a cat bite.

I have three stitches.  One of them is kinda wonky- I'm guessing that's the one the doctor was working on when I decided to exit stage left.  And the gash goes upward from the right corner of my mouth, which leaves me looking like Heath Ledger's Joker.

Except I won't be able to play the part very well because one of my discharge orders was to try not to smile too big.

Noooooo problem.

Yeah, he's that fast

Heads or Tails?

I've got a few weeks of photography class under my belt, can you even tell?  I've been taking all my pictures in manual mode for the past 2 weeks, which means I'm driving the unfortunate subjects of my photos especially crazy now.  You just think it's bad when your nutty aunt goes to take your picture with a camera that's in video mode (or worse, isn't even turned on).  But try having a rookie like me staring down the lens at you- making you reenact whatever it was you just did because I didn't have the right aperture or shutter speed set the first time.  Oh, and can you be really still?  Because I'm going to try that spot metering thing I learned last week, and I've got to aim right at the middle of your forehead like I'm a sniper and you're starring in Deliverance.

For those of you photo pros out there, I should have gone down one f/stop on that 2nd photo, right?