This Post Brought To You By The Letter "B"

"B" as in Butterbean.  It was all Butterbean all the time at Mimi's house this weekend.  She recently turned 8 months old and is no longer the sweet little bundle that loved to be held and jiggled and whatnot.

She is now a sweet little busybody who has learned to crawl and climb.  For Butterbean, it's all about the adventure...the more dangerous something is, the more she's attracted to it.  Toys?  Pah!  Those are for babies!!!  Give her the electrical outlets!  She wants to feel the burn! And as for Mimi?  She's just another stepping stone to that towering summit known as the living room sofa.

(If I haven't lost 15 pounds from chasing and climbing after her, then my scale is clearly broken and needs to be destroyed.  I sense a little DIY project coming on!)

The 'Bean has also discovered my laptop and her favorite thing to do is

yrghqa;ekcx,v a;sldpzy q/kzncv;yeioruhoidfhgn/z,.mcn a[weiurjngayghop;431038947urhofnSDmnfq03481p;3orlhnfdvbbg/eiwtyiu-387658tjg.

That last bit there was typed by Butterbean.  It says...."I love Mimi's keyboard."

('Scuse me while I wipe up the drool.  Sorry.)

When she gets hold of my laptop I have this image pop into my mind that somewhere in the bowels of a mountain in Colorado, the W.O.P.R. is booting up for another nice rousing game of Global Thermonuclear War and some military commander is saying, "Take us to DefCon 5."

But that's just me and my little friend known as, "Paranoia."

Don't judge me.

Anyhoo...the 'Bean also has 6 teeth now and I have a nice imprint of them on the fleshy part of my forearm.  She was kind enough to give it to me last night.

Butterbean is also working on learning what the word "no" means.  I have a feeling from some of the looks she gives me that she already knows the meaning, she just doesn't care.  But that couldn't be true could it?

Not my sweet, precious little grandbaby! 

If anyone has some Prozac they could lend me...that would be awesome.

Just kidding.

Almost.

Crawling

Well this past weekend we had a big event around here. 

Butterbean has decided to start crawling.  I knew time was limited a couple of weeks ago when she decided to start sitting up by herself.  Is it bad that I want to keep her in this sweet and soft baby skin of hers forever? 

Yes I'm totally selfish.  You can say it.  It's ok.

Butterbean dropped by for a visit last night and as usual, I laid out a quilt on the living room floor and put her on her tummy.  Then I plopped down beside her and began my ritual of staring at her playing with her and acting goofy.

Because that's what perfectly sane adults do when a baby is around.

Anyway, now that she's figured out she can move her body toward an object of her desire, she's wearing herself out exploring the edges of the quilt.   Sometimes that's a lot for a little girl with roly poly baby fat arms and legs.  She gets a little tired from living on the edge.  Of the quilt that is.

And then sometimes she's just downright lazy.

Last night after gumming our way through the story of Abraham's servant playing matchmaker, we read a few Susan Boynton books.  (Don't ask me the titles.  I don't pay attention...I just read)

Butterbean likes those books.  They are made of stiff board and she hasn't figured out how to get the edges into her mouth so...I guess that's good.  But the funny thing about it was watching her chase those books around the quilt.

She would grab one and it would fall out of her grasp.  She would grunt, get her behind up in the air, lay her head down on the quilt and then stretch as far as she could and her legs would propel her forward.

She looked like a dying inchworm, but she was getting it done.  And then, at one point, she just couldn't stand it anymore and she looked at me and cried a bit in frustration.

At that moment I had a choice to swoop down and be the hero and give her what she wanted, or I could let her figure it out herself and allow her to grow a little in the process.

It was a toughie.  I always want Butterbean to be happy.  But sometimes, happiness isn't as necessary as we think it is.  Sometimes it's important to go through a little frustration and a little pain in order to grow and become stronger.

It wasn't easy to watch her struggle, but I knew she could do it.  I had faith in her. 

You know where this is going don't you?

Think on it.  Who watches us while we struggle and try to learn to walk in this grace that has been lavished on us?  Who has faith...in us?

Yep.  You guessed it.  He does.

So what if we all look like dying inchworms?  So what?  So what if we need a breather every now and then and just have to look at Jesus and cry?

So what?

Here's what's gonna happen.  Butterbean doesn't know this yet, but I do.  Eventually...she's going to get it.  She's going to learn to crawl.  And then she's going to learn to walk, and finally...to run.

And baby...so will you.

Be encouraged sweet one.  Your Heavenly Father has His eye on you at all times and He has faith in you. 

You can do it.

Friday Fixins...AKA...See, What Had Happened Was...

Y'all.

What a week.  And a half.

The two of you who have read this blog faithfully may have noticed that I've been a leetle bit........oh how shall we say...absent.

Well here's the scoop.

Last week was my mama's birthday.  The big six-oh.  And she wanted my brothers and I to gather up the grandkids to all get together for the celebration.  And let me tell you...what mama wants...mama gets.  Mostly because she doesn't ask for much.  So when she does, it's pretty much a momentous occasion.

And since I like living...the hubs and I packed up the kids + Butterbean and went to LA because that's where my brothers live.  And because that's where mama said we were going.  See above paragraph.

For all of you that aren't from the South (I'll pray for you) LA means Lower Alabama.  (Not that place out west in California. Now y'all I'd rather walk on my lips than to criticize somebody (name that movie) but that place, meaning California, is weird. It makes "Deliverance" look like a Sunday picnic in the park.)

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...Mama had found a nice little house for rent on the lake and we had a glorious time eating, laughing and swimming.  Then it was time to come home and what with work and the Fourth of July and all (Happy Belated Birthday America!) this little blog has suffered from some neglect.

I apologize.  But seriously...is there anything that shouts Y'ALL COME ON IN AND TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT like blogging about being on vacation while being on vacation? 

I think not.

On the upside, I got to spend lots of time with the 'Bean and honey that is all a person could ever want in this world.  Especially a Mimi who can't get enough of those roly poly legs and that sweet smile.

We've talked a bit about how much I love to read her little bible to her when she's around, and I'm still looking for a cloth one, because her top teeth are just refusing to come through.  Which means she is gnawing on EVERYTHING and the drool production is THROUGH THE ROOF Y'ALL.

I had to save poor Noah from another flood the other day during storytime.

And I don't wanna talk about what almost happened to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  But I will say that mealtime and storytime just should not go together.  Lesson learned.

Anyhoo...(the banality of this blog is just astounding ain't it) all that to say...we're back.  And we missed you.

Hope your week has been glorious and your weekend is full o' fun.

Livin' Large At Mimi's House

I could alternately title this post...Never Give Butterbean Control Of The Spoon.

For what you're about to see...I'm sorry.  I couldn't help it.  It's been discovered that Butterbean likes bananas.

So...I gave her some.

And she ate them.

Butterbean: Hey Mimi...could I have the spoon back please?
Me: Ummm...no you're not doing so great with it.  I think you managed to get some up MY nose.

Butterbean: Ha ha ha...that's funny Mimi.  Now, give me the spoon.

Me: Look, your mom is supposed to be here soon and I don't even know if this is legal or not...

Butterbean: Mimi...don't make me do the face...

Me: What face? I don't know what you're talking about! *nervous chuckle, looking nonchalant*

Butterbean: *long dramatic sigh*

Butterbean: THIS FACE!!!

Me: *muttering to myself* Must resist...must clean baby before K gets here and bans me from babysitting...must...stay...strong...

Butterbean: Ok then...how's about a little hug?
Me: *sigh* I'm not going to survive the first year am I?

Butterbean: NOPE!

Help meee.

(Oh and by the way...please disregard the cushions, blankies and assorted whatnot in the background.  I live a real life in a real house.  Thanks y'all!)

Friday Fixin's

I'm running a little late today because I wasn't sure what I'd talk about today.  Then I decided on a topic, but my thoughts aren't organized and I'm rambling and typing on the fly.

All that to say...this post may or may not make sense.

If you'd like to read a blog written by a real writer...well then I'm sorry but this is not the place for you.  I'm a Mimi with access to the internet.  That's about it.  That's the whole enchilada.

So.

As you may or may not know, on Fridays I like to talk about ways we minister Christ to our littles and grand-littles.  So far we've talked about drool, singing, gnawing on toes, bible reading, growing teeth and living the life of Christ as a daily example.

Not necessarily in that order.

One element I think that lots of Christians take for granted is prayer.

Such a simple act...yet so powerful. 

Since Butterbean made her appearance, I've found myself praying more than I ever have before.  I wake up in the middle of the night praying...and Sweet Vidalia Onions that is not a practice I'm overly fond of.  Because Mimi likes her sleep y'all.  Yes ma'am.

And in those bleary, groggy, comatose a.m. hours, I do tend to wonder if any of it does any good.  I mean, no use losing perfectly good REM cycles for no reason right?  Of what purpose are all these words spoken so urgently in the darkness? 

I'm reminded of Paul's words to the Ephesians. 

Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places.

I don't know why I wake up sometimes with Butterbean's name on my lips.  Maybe it's stress.  Maybe it's anxiety.  Maybe it's just that I think about her a lot.

Or maybe...there are things going on.  Things I can't see, or hear, or taste, or touch, or smell.  Things I can't fight with charm or my talent or my good looks.  (Not that I have those things, but if I did...)

Maybe, just maybe, there are some battles that can only be fought with prayer. 

Or maybe I'm just a living my life a little too much on the wack-a-doodle-doo side.

I don't know.  I do know that my Papaw thought I was worth a little sleeplessness. 

And if I was worth it (gosh think about that...that's a whole nother Oprah show right there...somebody thought we were worth praying for...wow) surely my little Butterbean is worth it.  A zillion times more worth it.

What about you?  Do you take the praying for granted and think maybe it's a little overrated?  Or do you pray, pray, pray and pray some more?

Here's a thought...can I pray for you today?  Do you have a need?  You don't have to say specifics if you don't want...but if you could use a little help today...let's lift each other up shall we?  Feel free to leave your request in the comments section and let's "have a little talk with Jesus."

(Sorry.  I'm Southern.  It just comes out.)

  

The Voice

I don't know if I've mentioned this or not, but I help out a little on our praise team at church.  I'm not Christina Aguilera...but I'll do in a pinch.

I really enjoy singing to God.  It's one of the ways He uses to connect with me in the depths of my deep.

(I realize that last sentence sounds maybe a little pretentious or esoteric or stupid or some other big fancy word...I apologize.)

(But it's true.)

Naturally, I also love to sing to Butterbean.  She's sort of a captive audience right now since she doesn't know how to escape crawl yet.  It's a total win win.

She came to visit Tuesday evening (squee!) and I had the fun task of getting her to go to sleep.  Back in the day say, oh, 3 or 4 weeks ago...she was really easy to go to sleep and she was a great napper.  Lately she's been somewhat of a...shall we say...*insert air quotes here* challenge.

It appears that looking at the back of her eyelids has suddenly become unappealing to her.

So she and I went to the bedroom and we rocked and I sang and she listened and drooled and chewed on her blankie and played with her toes, and I sang some more, and she would lay her head on my chest and rock with me.  But the sleeping part?  Nopey.

Finally, after singing every Willie Nelson song I could think of (not really.  Sorry.  Big n Rich just sort of popped out...eww) and 14 repeats of "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" she finally (have I said that already?) closed her eyes.

Y'all...it was a good thing because I was sung OUT.  I was so desperate I almost started singing The Barney Song.  And given the amount of loathing I have for that show (not because it's BAD but because my daughter made me watch it over. and over. and over.) I feel sure I would not have been able to get through that without needing copious amounts of alcohol Christian and Spirit-filled therapy afterwards.

My husband and daughter were in the living room when I came out and my husband says, "Gosh babe, I was feeling so sorry for you.  That was a LOT of singing."

My voice.  It carries.

And you know what I say to that?  A big fat "whatever."  In fact, I think now that maybe 'Bean wasn't being ornery. She just liked my singing. 

A lot.

So Christina girl...you listenin'?  Be glad that I'm a Mimi.  Be very glad.

Because if ever I was to show up on your stage honey, it would be on like Donkey Kong.

'Cause Mimi can throw down some Barney.

Yes ma'am.

If The Tiara Fits...

In my family, there's a story we like to tell about my daughter.  She was in the second grade when her daddy noticed banners announcing sign-ups for youth softball.

And oh, how his eyes lit up and lo, the excitement was palpable when he asked his young progeny if she'd like to try playing softball.  She energetically nodded her head and although I knew she was really in it for the uniform, I agreed to let her play.

(I must interject here that I am not what you would call a sedate fan who quietly enjoys sporting events and doesn't speak above her "inside voice."  I'm a bit "appreciative" you might say and somewhat... "expressive.")

(I think the term I'm looking for here is LOUD.)

K played second base and one bright sunny saturday I was "appreciating" the game when I noticed my sweet princess running onto the field and her shoelaces (cleatlaces???) were untied.  With a stage whisper at the same decibel level of 747 preparing for take-off, I got her attention and told her to tie her shoes.  To which she put her hands on her hips and said, "I CAN'T!!!! I'VE GOT MY GLOVE ON!"

She had what you might call a touch of the melodrama.  And while I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where she got that from, I do believe she may have passed it on.

To Butterbean.

Y'all might have noticed that yesterday was Father's Day.  'Bean and her mama and daddy came over for a late lunch after church and let's just say somebody needed a nap.

Her mama laid her down on my bed and walked out and closed the door.  (2nd interjection: I must admit ..this always amazes me when she does this.  Because the crying and the whimpering? It melts me.  I am powerless to resist, but her?  Ice in her veins y'all...ice in her veins. *shiver*)

We sat in the dining room and listened in awe at the sounds coming from my bedroom.  I could have sworn someone was in there strangling a chicken, but no...it was my sweet Butterbean doing her best to squeeze out some tears so people would pity her.

Finally she managed to reasonably mimic a true cry and I couldn't take it anymore.  I peeped in on her and her dedication to her performance rivaled anything Sally Fields has ever even thought about doing.

She was laying in the middle of the bed flat on her back.  Her arms were straight down at her sides and her legs were up in the air.  Her eyes were squinched shut in concentration and she would take a breath and squawk.  Take a breath and squawk harder.

I must have made a sound because suddenly her eyes popped open and when she saw me she was all "UH-OH..THE JIG'S UP!!" and then, "QUICK!!! LOOK CUTE!!!"

And the display of grins and gurgles and fluttering of the eyes I was treated to almost ended me. 

I scraped my heart up off the floor and caved in to the merciless onslaught.

Then I started gathering up dust rags and planning out the trophy case.  Because when she wins the Oscar y'all...Mimi wants to be prepared.

Friday Fixin's

Well.

Last night Butterbean decided to show me she could handle a sitting position without any help from me.  She looked like a bobble-head doll with a permanently surprised expression on it's face but she was determined.  She threw vanity to the wind and perservered.

Which means that in about 2.3 seconds she'll be crawling and we all know what that leads to.  Yep...the dreaded teen years.  The point where she will suddenly know everything and yet she will still manage to look utterly confused and dumbfounded when asked to pick her dirty laundry up off the floor.

When that happens she will thereafter be known as Her Mama's Child. 

Until then though she's just Butterbean.

Sitting up means that story time is about to get lots more interesting.  I like the bible I have for her right now, but Butterbean likes to touch and taste EVERYTHING.  So I'd like to get a line on a cloth bible for her that doesn't cost an arm and a leg.

I checked out a few on Amazon and was blown away by how much they cost. 

Now...at this point I know some of you might be thinking, "Geez lady...she's just a BABY for crying out loud.  Why is reading the bible such a big DEAL?  Are you just trying to score brownie points with the Big Man?"

My response to that is...y'all haven't met my church's Junior Bible Quiz team. 

They are ages 6-12 and they are ruthless.  They won the state tournament.  They eat baby bibles for BREAKFAST!!!  So just teaching Butterbean to recite "Jesus wept" isn't gonna cut it with these kids.  She's gotta be ready for them.  And if ol' Mimi has anything to say about it...she will be.  Oh yes, she will be.

Aaaand I'd also like 'Bean to be full of the Word.  So that if she's ever in trouble and needs guidance or wisdom, it will already be there..in her spirit.  Because that's kind of important. 

As for the brownie points...no comment.

I've really been enjoying your comments and swappin' "recipes" on Friday Fixins!  So keep those cards and letters comin' y'all!

A Conversation With Butterbean

This summer, my husband and I have been grilling out.  Every night.  We love it because the food is awesome, the temperature in the kitchen doesn't increase to 50,000 degrees, and (added bonus) my husband handles the grill so it's almost like I don't have to do anything.

I don't know why I didn't think of this before.

Butterbean and her mommy stopped by the other night for some of the grilled goodness and 'Bean sat with us at the table.  She and I had a mental conversation that went something like this:

Butterbean: Hiiii Mimi!  Boy, that steak looks good!  How's about letting me try some?

Me: Ummm, well seeing as you still have very few teeth I don't think that's a very good idea.

Butterbean: Silence...pitiful stare...

Me: See...I...it's like this...don't look at me like that...I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!! ASK YOUR MOTHER!!!

Butterbean: Oh come on! We don't need to involve Mommy in this! We both know who the REAL boss around here is...

Me: Complete silence...chewing nervously...avoiding eye contact.

Butterbean: *In awed voice* Gee Mimi...you sure can shovel it in! 

Me: Alright sister! Thaaat's IT! *Throws down napkin*

At this point...K steps back in:

K: 'Bean...you know better than to bother Mimi when she's eating...

K: but between you and me dear, that WAS funny...*giggle*

Butterbean: *giggle* Yeah, it was.

Me: *sigh* No respect, none what-so-ever.

Butterbean: I loooove you Mimi!

Me: *sigh* If anyone needs to find me for the next say...eighteen years, give or take...I'll be in my room. 

THE END

Friday Fixins

Sometimes, I like to read CNN's Belief Blog.  There are lots of opinions and thoughts about God in the world, and I like to read about what others think.

What I don't like to read are the comments.  Typically they are filled with vitriol and hate speech.  You know, the kind we Christians get accused of more and more often these days?  And usually, as I scroll down through (apparently I'm a glutton for punishment) there's the person who says that anyone who believes in God is simply uneducated and a product of their Bible-belt wielding parents.

I have to chuckle at that one.

I'm a believer. 

But I wasn't raised that way.

My Dad was in the military and we were never home.  We usually lived at the minimum 4-5 hours away from family, and sometimes more.  Like as in, living in a whole different country more.

Although my parents weren't believers, my Dad's parents were.  So the few times we were able to come home and see family, my Papaw would take me to church with him.  And in between times, he would pray for me and my brothers, and my Mom and Dad.  But there was more going on than just the church-going and the praying...there was also the every day living.

1 Corinthians 2:14-17 says this:

"¹⁴ But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place. ¹⁵ For we are a fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing; ¹⁶ to the one an aroma from death to death, to the other an aroma from life to life. And who is adequate for these things? ¹⁷ For we are not like many, peddling the word of God, but as from sincerity, but as from God, we speak in Christ in the sight of God."

Paul didn't know it at the time, but he was writing about my Papaw right there.  The man exuded the aroma of Christ, and us grandkids inhaled it much like the way a drowning man gulps in oxygen.

And so, one night long ago, I knelt down in my backyard underneath a star-studded Texas sky.  And for the first time I understood that God was real.  And I was not alone.  As a result of that tiny awakening, twenty-three years later, I would watch my parents come to Christ.

But I never would have believed, if I hadn't seen faith in action in the life of my Papaw.

The fact that my children have been raised with a firm foundation under them...

The fact that their children after them will be raised with a firm foundation under them...

Started with the prayers of a humble man who often lived thousands of miles from his grand-daughter, and who usually saw her once every two years.

My whole family, and the generations that will come after, is a witness to the power of what one faithful man's testimony can bring about.

Butterbean and I, we rock and sing.  We play with fingers, and tickle tummies, and point at pretty flowers and all the while I tell her Jesus loves her.  But the telling is not enough.  There has to be the living.

My prayer today is that the living and the working and the breathing will fully live up to the task to plant the Eternal once again into new and precious ground. 

So Lord, let the aroma of You flow out of me, and let the dying breathe You in.  As You did for me, do for those I love and come into contact with.  On earth as it is in Heaven, amen.

(How do you exude Christ to your littles?  I'd love to know.  Leave a comment and let's encourage one another.)

Drool Can Be Pretty...At Least That's What I Tell Myself

Ok so SOMEbody around here is busy trying to grow teeth.  And there's lots of slobbers.  Sorry if you're sensitive to that stuff but Butterbean and I made a pact to always keep it real around here.

Two darling little pearly whites have already popped through on the bottom.  And apparently, judging by the amount of saliva being produced....all the rest of them should be coming in at the same time.

In honor of this...and because my mom works for a pediatric dentist...I'm submitting this for your enjoyment.  I hope it works.

Have a great day!

Wynken, Blynken, and Butterbean

Wynken, Blynken and Butterbean one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe

Sailed on a river of crystal light

Into a sea of dew...

(my apologies to Eugene Fields for hi-jacking his lovely poem)

Is there anything more wonderful than rocking a baby to sleep? 

To slow down, stop everything and rock back and forth, back and forth, resting your cheek against the top of that soft little head?

I think not.

The stress from the day seems to melt all the way down your arms and out of your fingertips as you stroke the silky skin of one tiny dimpled arm.  You softly hum songs you haven't thought about in an age.  Her breathing slows as a grin spreads across your face while you watch those two heavy little eyelids fight a losing battle to stay open.  They droop down and down until finally, they are closed.

She is asleep. 

The busy little body that is working hard to get her behind up in the air and figure out how to crawl is now limp in your arms.  The tiny little rosebud mouth is slack, and you wonder with quiet awe at the beauty of the creation resting against your breast, thinking how could anyone ever doubt there is a God?

Peace settles deep...into the very marrow of your bones and you know you should lay her down but you just want one more minute...

Because there is nothing as sacred as the type of trust it takes to fall asleep in the arms of another.

I'm guessing that's how God feels when we stop struggling and rest in His arms, cheek pressed against His chest, listening to His heartbeat.  When we stop our endless talking, slow our anxious thoughts and allow our burdens to be eased from our shoulders onto His.

We wake, we begin to stir, but He whispers, "No.  Rest."

"Just one more minute...one more..."







The Path To Whirled Peas

A month or so ago, the 'Bean, her mother and I took a weekend trip up to Ohio to see family.  My cousin is the co-founder of Bella Baby Photography, and they'd just opened their new studio.

They needed a test subject.

So...

Butterbean generously gave of her time and expertise to throw out a few poses.

It was hard work...

But she handled it like a pro.

The drive to Ohio also afforded a chance for Butterbean's mommy and me to talk.  At issue were important things like, stocking the diaper bag with socks when Butterbean comes to visit (get it? "stocking" the diaper bag with socks? oh the dippy humor you guys are in for...) and when is the proper time to start giving her solid foods (peas and carrots anyone?), as well as a few, tiny, little insignificant things like family members who were overstepping boundaries and giving unwanted and unwarranted criticism in the form of "advice."

Ahem.

One thing I truly appreciate about my daughter is she understands my hovering.  She doesn't like it, but she understands it.

Another thing I like and admire about her is she's woman enough to stand up to it and put her foot down when necessary.  Respectfully, of course.

To understand me, you have to know that my children (I have two, my daugher and my son) are my treasures.  Money (not that I have any), houses (not that I own one), cars (ok we have a few of those)...are all nice things, but worthless in light of my kids.

So to say I'm a hoverer is a little bit of an understatement.  I am a true-blue, handwringing, nail-biting, always-wear-clean-underwear-in-case-you're-in-an-accident helicopter mom.  I accept this and I own it baby.

In my daughter's case, I wasn't really afforded the gradual letting go that lots of moms get.  I was hoping I'd have a nice four years of college followed by 3 years of graduate school to get used to the idea that my child is now in fact, an adult.

That didn't happen.

Actually, it kind of went down like this:

BOOM! Graduation
BOOM! Pregnancy
BOOM! Grandmother-hood
BOOM! Wedding
BOOM! Move out and get own life. (Her, not me.)

All of it happened at once in less than a span of 12 months.

*sigh* Jesus and chocolate were my only links to sanity.

So, I still have issues with being THAT mom...you know, the one who keeps everybody waiting in the drop-off line at school because she's good-bye-ing and advising and pep-talking just because she can't bear to watch the little shaver walk off without her?

Guilty.

(Sorry, by the way, if you were ever unfortunate enough to be behind me in line.)

So, as I said, the five-hour drive to Ohio was a good chance to clear the air.

And sneak in a spoonful or ten of whirled peas to Butterbean.

;)


(All photos courtesy of Bella Baby Photography.  These images are copyrighted and may not be used without written permission.  Thanks!)