The boy has discovered his penis.
He found it when I left him alone in the crib sans diaper. He spent a few minutes poking it before getting distracted by his blankie so I think we're safe for a few years. Do I even need to mention how much self-control it took to not grab the camera? (The years of potential therapy outweighed the hilarity. But not by much.)
In other news, I'm trying to get into the holiday spirit but I can't say's I'm feeling it yet. I have Christmas cards to make, stockings to hang, aluminum trees to place very, very out of reach, and yet I want none of it. Maybe it's the lack of snow. I am hoping to get to Bergdorf's to see their windows. Their take on the holidays is always strange and beautiful. (Pics complements of Hollister Hovey, whom I pretty sure I want to be when I grow up.)
I would give my left nostril to raid their props closet.
Parents, did you teach your kids about Santa? Parents and non, were you destroyed when you learned it was a lie? (I put two-and-two together when I thought I heard Santa and discovered my grandma stuffing the stockings and chain smoking.) And what do you do to get in the mood? The holiday one, that is. (Although, hey, a girl could always use pointers.)