Friday, July 13, 2007


So she's MY minime after all. What's your point?!?!?

So he's got an appreciation for fabulous footwear.
[Okay, perhaps there's a slight chance that it's actually only because it's cowhide and, therefore, in the world of Chago, nearly an animal and, therefore, worthy of his time and attention.]

She's so proud. So so proud of the ginormous egg on her forehead that she got from running full force into a pole at school. "Didn't even bother to look where I was going," she tells me later.

Watering their little fledgling plants. One of our many mandatory weekly chores. And by "we" I do mean "them," of course. She picked cherry tomatoes and he chose chili peppers ("for you, Mama," he said. I know, I know, wrapped around his little finger, I am). But for as good as they are about reminding me that we need to water them, they're also just little botanical terrorists in disguise. The second I look away, they're plucking leaves and digging at the roots and kicking at the little buds. I've had nightmares, I tell you, of giant tomatoes chasing me down the street kicking at my thighs and plucking out my arm hair.

And today they decided to rifle through the hamper and dress up in Mommy's clothes.
It was a dedication parade, apparently. And ode to Mommy, who's been working just a few too many hours these days. :(

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