The sun made me do it

Hi. Yeah. How about that color?

For those of you not reading this via Google Reader or some other type of device, you surely could not help but notice the green background and cherry blossoms that are now adorning this blog. In a burst of sunshine-induced enthusiasm, I changed my template, and Holy Moses, it's a bit much. And I'm not even talking about the reversed-out white font. (Which by the way, has the font always been that hard to read, or is it just time for my yearly "Here's your new prescription. Only four more to go until you're legally blind." visit to the eye doctor?)

Anyway, I have nothing but the sun and my lack of blogging experience to blame for this little episode. So, until I can figure out how to change it to something else, please, by all means, enjoy it for what it is: A puke green background covered with cherry blossom branches and pictures of my child.

Totally a toddler

Although the wise folks at Babycenter.com told me that turning one made Mary Clare a toddler, I was like no way, not my baby. My sweet little baby still goes to the infant room at school with all the other sweet little babies.

Well, no more.

Not only does she have an increasing amount of not-so-sweet moments, but she is now a proud member of the Sunshine Kids toddler room at school. Her actual transition was last week, but as her teachers told me, there really was no transition. She just motored in, didn't cry and slipped right into the toddler routine, which, entertainingly enough, involves lining up at the sink for hand washing before every meal. It is ridiculously cute. (And hygienic!)

A large part of this smooth transition has to do with her infant teachers, who realized that if left to her own devices, Mary Clare would jam her binkie into every crying baby's mouth, and gosh darned it, babies in the baby swing will swing with authority! So, in order to keep her entertained and the little babies safe, Mary Clare spent a lot of the last two months visiting in the toddler room. While she was also kicked out of the toddler room (sometimes in record time) for standing on the tables or pitching balls out of the ball pit, I still think it helped with the transition.

Oh, and about her not-so-sweet moments? She's becoming a tad aggressive. This week alone she knocked my glasses off my face, pulled my hair, pulled Buddy's hair and took a swing at Buddy when he wouldn't move out of her way. So now I'm taking a cue from my friend Sue and walking around saying things like, "Nice touches only!" and "We use our hands for clapping! We use our hands for waving!" I sound ridiculous. But hey, whatever it takes to keep Buddy and I safe, right?

For more photos of Miss Sassy Pants, click here, and be sure to check out the last few from her trip to the Missouri Botanical Gardens with Grandpa and Grandma Thole, which, surprisingly enough, featured more puddles and fewer flowers than one might think.

Praying for a puppy

Brennan called me up the other night and asked me to post something for him. Because I cannot say no to those big brown eyes, I was only too happy to oblige. Here goes:

Mom gave me this to me and said it's very important.

She's having a puppy!
(Well, she said baby, but I'm sure she meant puppy.)

Wait a minute. I don't see a tail.

Curses. I bet it is a baby after all.

Oh well, puppy or not, I'm going to be a great big brother.

While Brennan is still pretty certain that's a puppy on the ultrasound -- he's even called it Holly on occasion -- Sherri assures me that it is, in fact, a baby, which is scheduled to arrive sometime in late September. We are obviously thrilled, and Mary Clare can't wait to have a new little cousin.

Congratulations, Jones family!

We should definitely be a one shopper family

I called Chip this afternoon to check in, as we are like ships passing in the night on the evenings when he has class.

C: Your ears must be burning. Well, Mary Clare's ears. I'm picking up something for Mary Clare.
D: Um, really? Is Shelley* with you?
C: No, I'm by myself.

He wouldn't tell me what he was buying. I tried cajoling the information out of him, but he is a stubborn one. I made one last attempt before we hung up.

D: Well, at least tell me where you are.
C: Red. Bud. Illinois. [click]

Heaven help us. I just know it's going to be some sort of camouflaged swag. Or require ammunition.

*Shelley is Chip's business partner, and a bit of a shopper. A shopper with really good taste. Her three boys are always perfectly dressed and coiffed, yet she clearly loves shopping for little girls and has showered Mary Clare with all sorts of frivolously perfect gifts, including a micro pair of Ugg boots.

UPDATE - 8:30 PM
Mary Clare and I arrived home to find a dozen post-it notes sprinkled throughout the house, directing us to Chip's surprise purchase. I was intrigued by the trail of notes, and Mary Clare was thrilled with the paper because, hello, it's paper. We finally found a tiny little size four pair of these amid Chip's size 11 shoes:

The material is pearlescent and ridiculously cute. Say what you will about Crocs, but I love them on kids, and they will be perfect for the summer. The right size and everything.

Clearly, I underestimated my husband. And Red Bud.

I parent with reckless abandon

That's right. I let Mary Clare stand unattended on our window sill as she watched Chip and Buddy play outside. It's not like I left her there while I switched out the laundry. Just long enough to get a full-body shot. Which is still too long for some people.

You see how Chip is waving? That's not a friendly wave. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's signaling to our neighbor to call DCFS on me.

Whatever. She had a nice wide stance established.

Toothy tiger

Every morning I ask Mary Clare, "What does a tiger say?" in the hopes that I'll get a grrr and a hand swipe. (Feel the claw!) We've got the hand swipe down. Sometimes. Okay, twice. Most of the time she just starts panting, thinking I have asked her "What does a puppy say?"

We'll get there. In the meantime, all of you Mizzou fans will just have to make do with a picture of Mary Clare in Chip's winter hat. I really want a grrr, but I guess that gap toothed smile isn't so bad.

Baby in a box

Growing up, Sherri and I loved to play in cardboard boxes. Loved it! My dad would bring home large refrigerator boxes, and I'm telling you, it was better than if he had come home with an armful of Matchbox cars or Legos. We seriously dug on cardboard boxes. We would cut out windows with shutters, color all over it, pile it full of blankets, slide into it and roll it around the yard gerbil wheel-style once it had given us all it could. One time my dad even came home from work to find an extension cord running from the garage to the backyard. That's right, we were watching cartoons from the comfort of our cardboard box.

So, of course, I decided it's time to start showing Mary Clare all that cardboard boxes have to offer. For now, an Amazon box works quite well. Which is good, because I have no idea from where we will procure a refrigerator box once she outgrows the packages that hold my online purchases.

Well. We've certainly never done this before.

Seriously, you do some crazy stuff when Dad's not home.

I can see there's no reasoning with you. I must plot my escape.

Like Gretel, I shall eat my way out of my prison.

I can't wait that long. Freedom is just a tumble away.

As you can see, she didn't dig on the cardboard box quite as I had hoped. That's okay. Love affairs such as these take time. I'll be patient.