It’s just sad really…
January 14, 2008
Filed under:Lotso Pics
That I get so interminably distracted as to not post in here as often as I should. Which is a tricky thought, really, because who’s to say how often I “should” do anything?
HaHA, a terrific trap, and one that the lazy man will often use to get out of doing something.
See how I did that?
Enough of that then, on to some pictures to catch my photolife up a bit.
This is just Jade. In my office, yet again. Sucking on something she’s probably not supposed to.
She’s cute though, and seems to somehow know when she is, and being so, and can therefore get away with things. A power that sometimes seems too great for one so small.
Exhibit B. She used to be pretty sure we didn’t want her doing this, but then decided that since we didn’t tell her “No” every time, that we didn’t mean it.
After hearing the first few bars of her initial masterpiece, we now openly encourage her to play as much as she likes and, while there isn’t a huge variation between the first few bars and then next few bars (or any of the notes for that matter), her masterpiece is coming along well.
It’s looks like that that I need to learn how to handle instead of turning to mush.
A random shot during last November’s Melbourne Cup Day (the race that stops a nation). She’d apparently decided it was time to nap and I’d apparently had too much champagne while cheering on my horse and it’s most unwinning ways.
This is at The Sizzler in celebration of her Uncle Danny’s birthday a few days after Christmas. See? She’s still got her Christmas Glow about her.
It hasn’t been a brutally hot Summer here (in my opinion) but it’s been warm enough to enjoy our little inflatable-sided pool in our backyard. I can barely keep the kids out of it and have probably skipped photos of them in there for fear of having my camera splashed riotously.
Jade loves it though, and gets wiggletastically excited when we ask her if she wants to get in.
This is just random cuteness. I forget where we were going (or if we were even going out) but sometimes you get there with the camera in time to capture the “aw”ness. Other times you just curse while digging for the camera in your wife’s purse and yell at the kids to keep being cute dammit. Haha.
Probably the first time that we’d realised that her hair is long enough to tie into a ponytail, and how incredibly much this would aid in feeding her.
With this in mind I gave up the dish and spoon and just let her at it with the resulting heavy amount of smearing with a happy mix of “Sharing with Daddy” thrown in.
“I shares with you Daddy”
She delights in this, and seems to be “at that age” as they say, when she’s into sharing her food and mimicking almost everything from shrugging to scrunching up her face as cutely as possible.
She’s also walking more on her own, which is to say that she’ll stand up next to something, let go, take a step, screech in excitement, and then put her hand back on the stable structure.
She’s also fixed the gearbox problem that she had preventing her from crawling forward and now zooms out of the room when you blink more than twice. I’ve got my office barricade fortified and we’ve got a full-sized babyjail playpen out in the open space of the house, both of which help immensely in keeping her from pulling ALL of the CDs off the rack and all the DVDs as well. Seems that she’s a bit of an anarchist and defies any semblance of order.
I keed, she’s not anywhere near as naughty as I make her out to be.
Unless we’ve left her hair down. That li’l moppethead with curly locks in her eyes couldn’t look naughtier if she was holding a black plaque with “County Jail” on it when she’s got her hair down.
Damonus Prime, showing off some of the most excellent of Christmas presents.
While I am experiencing major suckage in not having any photos of our holiday celebrations, I can share that the absolute highlight of the entire day was him opening up the box from Santa, seeing the voice-changing Optimus Prime helmet and yelling excitedly and disbelievingly, “It’s exactly what I wanted! HOW’D he know exactly what I wanted?!?!??!”
Santa Rocks, most definitely.
George is actually enjoying her Santa present (CD/Radio) as I sit and write this, singing and bopping along like the future Pop Star that she is. If we could get her to listen to anything other than the first 3 songs, or at least listen to them all the way through and not just the first 30 seconds 7 times in a row… well then we’d be happy. Ah, the joys of a distractarino for a child. I could go on and on about how much fun it is to get her to eat a meal in under 45 minutes.
The boy is obviously hamming at this point, but the awesomeness that is his armour gives me a nice segue into some pictures of me being warriortastically fighty at some shows in November.
Brother-in-law Sam is on the left, and is gutting me once again. He tends to be the underdog, dressed in slightly-above-peasant status garb and portraying a hard-done-by Celt, so slicing open an invading shiny-helmet Norman gets quite the reaction from the crowd (who were on the camera side of this fight, leaving only the hottie holding the beautiful baby girl on the windiest side of the ropes).
This is at the Highlands Fest in Armadale, and I finally got to win a fight or two. The Celts being the precursor of William Wallace and, eventually, the Kilt-clad Highlanders, made my Celtic helmet and armour quite popular and me a victor (most of the time).
Jo’s dad made it over for one fight and confided in me later that all the clanging, banging, and yelling made him a bit more afraid of me than he was. Which I thought was fine until I wondered what I could’ve done to make him afraid in the first place. Fiercely bake him that Pumpkin Pie? Ferociously buy him that beer? Give a battle cry during his birthday dinner?
Wait… mighta been that last one. Following it up by ripping a chicken in half with my teeth probably didn’t help either. It was KFC, but he’s obviously still scarred.
My other outfit, all hand-made just like the Celtic one, is of a sneering-whilst-invading Norman dog. Unlike the screaming-bloody-murder, blue-painted, stinkingdirty Celt, the Norman puffs around a bit more, is a bit more controlled with his movements and sword work, and dies quite violently. It’s great, except now my ribs hurt.
Me and Wifeage looking hot in our kilt action. The Armadale Highlands Fest was a right good time, and we were dressed the part and lookin’ hot and bein’ hot and… have I mentioned how much I dig my wife in a kilt? Yeah, as much as she digs me in mine baby, oh yeah!
Boy, the day it does get on one doesn’t it?The big news as well, is that we got gifted a popup caravan from a neighbour friend of the family and, despite the crapload of work it needs put into it, we’re cleaning it up and taking it up the coast this weekend.I’ll do my best to take pictures and then share them with you but, as I can’t exactly be trusted to be good about that, don’t hold your breath.
Loves to all, and Best Wishes from the Australia Exley’s that not only Christmas treated you like you’d done nothing but save nuns and puppies from terrorists all year, but that 2008 promises to treat you like you secretly snuck it the Mars bar that you said you were saving for 2007.
Toodles.