24,000 Easter Pictures

Mallory has developed the habit of exaggerating quantities -- "I want 18 million pancakes for breakfast! I want to play outside for 28 thousand hours!" And since last week I have picked up 12 billion strands of Easter grass and stepped on 14 hundred plastic eggs. Oh, and I took lots of pictures too.

Egg dying. (No eggs died!) Incidentally, Mallory told me not to take pictures of her because her clothes didn't match. This from a child who once purposely wore a Halloween shirt with candy-cane pants and summer sandals.

Phoebe received this Elmo bubble machine from the Easter bunny. Bubble-blowing Elmo is very loud and wastes lots of bubble liquid. Phoebe likes him anyway.

Phoebe did not like having to have her picture taken in her Easter dress.

Still not liking it:

Nope, not liking it now either:

A bit happier, with a "pop-pop" and grandparents:

Hunting for Easter eggs:

"Easta-weggs! I find! All done!"

Comments

Anonymous said…

I hope that Phoebe doesn't cry on all the photographic moments of her life! The dresses were very cute, by the way.

Mom

4:22 PM

aimee said…

Cute dresses! Noah was like that. Every picture I tried to take of him, he frowned and sometimes cried. He is four. Not as cute as Phoebe.

12:14 AM

I ask you

This is my garden: Or rather, this is the patch of soil that was my garden last summer. It produced millions of tomatoes, dozens of green peppers, a handful of cucumbers, and two puny watermelons. I do not wish to repeat last summer's vegetable bounty, because most of said bounty went to waste. Nor, however, do I want this patch of soil to remain brown and bare throughout the summer, because it's unattractive. So, what do I plant here, in the shrubbery/flowery vein? Keep in mind that I do not have a green thumb. Also, I don't want to spend a lot of money. Also, this area is in full sun most of the day. And it's really hot. And sometimes we get rabbits. Any advice? To thank you in advance, I give you these goofy photos of my children and their homemade parfaits (which Mallory persisted in calling "specialinis").

It's what's for dinner

One of the things that I failed to appreciate about my mom until I left home is that she always made dinner (although I think we called it supper then), by which I mean, something hot, usually involving a vegetable. I don't remember my mom ever saying sheepishly to her hungry spouse and offspring, "I don't feel like cooking, how about a bowl of cereal?" I hate making dinner. Haaate it. It's my least favorite chore. It's not necessarily because I can't cook. I can usually manage to create something edible, although I have yet to perfect the science of getting, say, the chicken and the broccoli and the rice and the rolls all ready at the same time. (There are those among you who may be surprised that I make and serve broccoli. It's true! It's best when roasted: Toss with olive oil and salt, spread on a baking sheet, put in 400 degree oven for about 8 minutes. It's delicious! Delicious as broccoli can be, at least.) It's also not necessarily t...

the closet

Amy has challenged me to list 8 things that are hidden in the back of my closet. I try not to actually look to closely at the back of my closet, so these are my closest guesses: 1. At least three no-longer-needed diaper bags. 2. An outfit that I've been meaning to return to Land's End for at least six months now. 3. One of our wedding pictures, which has a broken frame which I keep meaning to replace. 4. Shoes, shoes, shoes, shoes. 5. Possibly a pair of fuzzy slippers. I miss those fuzzy slippers. Maybe I should brave the mess and go try to find them. 6. Baby blankets. 7. A few small toys that I meant to stick in the girls' Christmas stockings. Maybe next year. 8. And I'm guessing, a bunch of mismatched socks. My closet isn't very interesting, I'm afraid.

Always Remember That

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