Squeaky Stair

As soon as we hit the stair, you run to turn off your light and jump into bed. As if the room—hit with a Milo-tornado—is not a dead give-away. Also, we hear you scampering about.

Lub You

Tonight as we were lying in bed together you said out of nowhere: "You're my best friend mommy. I love you."

Silly mommy

Today when we were driving by the fire station on Fort Avenue you noticed the doors were closed and you couldn't see the engines. Maybe they're sleeping, I offered. "No, they're not sleeping. They don't have eyes."

Story Telling

Every night you demand stories about different things: feet, Willa, eyes, trucks, the moon, bears. It is hard to come with up three original stories each night. Also, every story must include: Marin, Millen, Gracie Pendell Jones.

You Are Hilarious

This morning when we were parking to get mommy coffee (and you a secret donut) you saw a man in a black and white sweatshirt. "Mommy, that man is dressed like a cow. And it's not even Halloween."

Spotted

Daddy just caught you with your door closed, the light on, sitting Indian-style on the floor with your shoes and homemade necklace on. Ohh, and the mini heater (unplugged) in your bed.

Nina's camera + Halloween = Yumminess