Return Of The Snow Fairy

If you doubted that I am, indeed, The Snow Fairy, look what awaited us when we woke up this morning:



Wiggle Man decided to help out. His tractor doesn't drive well in the snow. I don't think they make snow tires for those.


So he helped brush off the car, instead.

My sincerest apologies to my new neighbours for bringing all this white stuff. If my powers hold true to form, things should be back to normal by next winter.

More Places

The nice man at Wholey's let Wiggle Man hold a lobster.


He's thrilled.

Actually, he's distracted by the choo choo.

I'm telling you. Everywhere we went seemed to have a train somewhere.

Places

Last week the Rev and I took Wiggle Man on a little trip. We told him "vacation" is where you go see new places.

Places became his word of the week.

Especially places with trains.






Here's a view from the top of the Duquesne Incline, in Pittsburgh, where we got to spend some time with good friends.

7:17 am

It's 7:17 am.

And I'd like to go back to bed, please.

I woke up to find I could only breathe through one nostril (the left, for the curious) thanks to a forgotten dose of allergy medication last night.

Wiggle Man wanted milk. I managed to spill it down the front of my cupboards and onto my feet. Then, of course, the sippy cup I poured what milk did not end up on the floor into seemed to have a stuck straw.

Rather than fight the sippy cup, I took the opportunity to let Wiggle Man use his brand spankin' new Thomas cup.

He showed his appreciation by informing me he wanted "Green milkie."

As in, 'Nice try, lady, but bring me the green cup.'

As if.

Tastes Yucky

And it's pronounced "tast-es." Yes, two syllables. This from my Wiggle Man, who is also turning "yes" into a two-syllable word. ("Yay-ess.")

But I digress.

"Tastes yucky" is Wiggle Man's new Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free Card. At least, he thinks it is. Trying to get this child do do something he does not want to do is invariably met with "tastes yucky."

Diaper changes? "Tastes yucky." (I imagine they would, my boy.)

Nap time? "Tastes yucky."

Picking up his toys? "Tastes yucky."

Of course, any food he doesn't want to eat "tastes yucky." That goes without saying.

However, this morning my little man awoke to a somewhat unsettled stomach. Let's just say there were some dry heaves, and some actual vomit, and leave the detailed description for my phone call to the pediatrician's office.

And what did my little man have to say after this ordeal? (Besides asking repeatedly for the blankies that were now "taking a bath" in the washing machine, that is?)

"Tastes yucky."

Yes, my son, it certainly does. Now let's go get those teeth brushed, 'cause it sure smells yucky, too.

Little Boy

It's happening before my eyes.

My little baby is becoming a little boy.

Now, this is not a sudden development--I've been saying this for a while now. But today has been one of those days where I seem to notice it more.

We went swimming this morning at the Y. Wiggle Man watched a man swimming laps and said, "Me try." So today, instead of his usual march through the water with a floaty on his back, he let me hold him on his stomach while he "swam." He went underwater. He let me put him on his back. He stood under the shower afterwards, instead of freaking out at the water hitting his face.

Tonight, we had cheeseburgers for dinner, just the two of us. He sat across from me in the booth, happily munching his fries. He used a napkin to wipe his hands and mouth. By himself.
He begged for his toy, and in true parental fashion I made him wait until he was finished eating.

Time is flying.

Cake Pops

This weekend, we had dinner with some friends. I saw it as a perfect opportunity to practise my cake decorating. (Plus, let's be honest--I was craving chocolate cake.)

Well, it was also the first chance I'd had to make a cake using Bertha, my new KitchenAid stand mixer. Well...I got a little excited, and used the wrong attachment on Bertha when making the icing. It was lumpy, no doubt about it.

I tried putting the cake together, anyway. I even got as far as putting a crumb coat of icing on it and letting it set up in the fridge overnight. But I just couldn't do it.

So, I took the opportunity to try something I've been wanting to try for a while now: Bakerella's Cake Pops. Check out her awesome blog for the actual recipe; I simply took my cake, scraped off the offending lumpy icing, and mashed it up with some nice, non-lumpy chocolate icing.

Then I formed the chocolatey goodness into balls (some were too big, in hindsight) and stuck them with lollipop sticks. My cake pops took a chill in the freezer to firm them up:

And then they took a bath in melted candy melts (Wiggle Man wanted "poopah" melts). I should have kept the melted candy and chocolate warmer; you can see this one didn't coat as well as the ones behind it.

And some dark chocolate. ("The chocolate coating makes it go down easier." Actually, these went down pretty easily, thank you Valerie.)

I ran out of chocolate and candy melts, so I thought I'd use up some white chocolate. I think the cake pops had been out of the freezer for too long and weren't as firm as they should have been:

Sadly, Wiggle Man and I had to eat this poor cake pop ourselves. Just to, you know, make sure they tasted ok.

Yup.

Wiggle Man was a little confused by the cake pops (he couldn't tell if they were ice cream or cake) but definitely enjoyed eating them. I wish I'd gotten a picture of him chowing down on his poopah cake pop.

Cake on a stick. What a grand idea. Thanks, Bakerella!

Catching Up

Well, I'm getting there. Caught up, that is. Between Christmas, New Years, visiting family, last minute rehearsals and life in general I have to be honest: I'm whooped. Beat. Exhuasted.

Forgive me that I'm a little slow on this, but here is a glimpse into our Christmas morning.

But first, remember this? My little man, cheering for Christmas? I thought you might be interested in seeing his actual reaction upon waking.

Confession

So I thought today would be a a good day to purge my soul. New Year=clean slate, and all that. So here are my confessions:

A day without a bubble bath is a sad, sad day.

My hair has never looked better since I stopped washing it every day. You may think that's gross, but my hair (and me) are much happier.

Sometimes I have to "go to the bathroom" simply to shut the door and get some peace and quiet.

I really think it's hysterical when Wiggle Man runs away from the children's message in church. (Even though I pretend to be horrified. It's too cute.)

Right now, even though we just came back from a great Chinese buffet, I still want to eat some chocolate.

I must use lotion at regular intervals. Hands, feet, elbows--you name it, it needs moisture.

I'm finding it hard to focus because I want that chocolate.

I still haven't put pictures from Christmas on the computer. I'll get to it. Really.

I carried my piccolo to church this morning in my purse. I think playing an instrument that fits in my purse is the bestest.

I'm going to finish this now, so I can eat some chocolate.