Santa Baby...

"...I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me..."




Not as successful a visit with Santa this year as last year. Santa had warned us about that, but I think we stressed him out. He says that next year will be better, and that he'll bring Rye a few surprises anyway.

Full Service Operation

Rye was quietly playing with the groceries while Mommy did some housework today. Later, I figured out he was playing with a six of beer I'd picked up for Daddy (it's going to be a long week—our basement studio with the new flooring we put in last year is seeping water with all of the rain...but that's another story entirely). He parked one of the beers in Greg's shoe in the living room, near where Greg has been leaving his bag after work.

When Greg walked in the door, Rye was very excited to see him, and started chatting with him in an informative, yammering way. He toddled over to the beer he had set aside, picked it up in his two little hands, and hauled it over to Daddy, who was watching in delight. Rye said a few more words, handed the beer to Daddy, then escorted him into the house to play.

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It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

Rye's Nana sent some Santa jammies and he took them for a test run as soon as they came out of the wash. They were much more popular than the real Santa this year. He had a chance to open a few gifts this weekend—we are spacing some things out so that Christmas Day isn't so completely overwhelming. We'll space out the toys he plays with after Xmas as well, to keep things interesting and part of the regular rotation.

Today's conversation: Stars

"Stars?" Rye asked, looking at the limp string of lights across the mantle.

"Yes, they look like stars. Would you like mommy to turn the lights on?"

Rye looked at the Christmas tree.

"Dark," he said. Yesterday we had talked about how it was dark outside, but you could see downtown glittering in the distance.

"I'll turn the lights on, on the tree. One, two, three, GO!"

When the lights went on, Rye grinned.

"Stars," he said.

About a half hour later, he was eating Os in his special stool at the counter. He pointed to one of the wall tiles that has a sun painted on it.

"Stars," he said, touching the tile. And we talked about how the bright sun was a star in the sky that was really close.

And he happily finished his Os.

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Pre-Christmas roundup

Ye Ole Home Depot, where the trees are so standardized we didn't even shop around or look at them, we just chose a wrapped bundle and threw it on top of the car. And you know what? The tree looks just fine. No bald spots.


Mommy had to run out and get some more lights. Guess our tree was smaller last year.

photo by Tio.
Rye's second cousins; group shot of the great grandkids. photo by Tio.

Rye creates a plate with very little help from Daddy at the climbers' Holiday party

Contest winners.

A full conversation

This afternoon, Rye looked at me and clapped his hands together, in his own sign language for, "I need help."

"What can Mommy do to help you?" I asked.

"Socks," he said.

So I went and got his little fleece slippers and put them on his chilly bare feet, and he grinned and stared down at his feet and said, "Socks." Then he toddled off to play.

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