Blue Christmas

We left for our Christmas odyssey on Wednesday afternoon. Thinking that the adventure should start a little early, I decided to test the laws of gravity by pulling the lamp cord that was dangling from the table in our family room. It was just screaming to be pulled, after all. Afterwards, I was just screaming. I pulled it right on top of myself and it landed squarely on my head and the floor - or so mommy thought. I was inconsolable for a good half an hour. Mommy checked me over and over again but could find no scars, bruises, or blood. Somewhere during the latter half of our 10-hour drive to Chattanooga, however, she noticed what looked like newspaper ink on my right ring finger. When "the ink" wouldn't come off when she tried to clean it, she realized it was a seriously bruised digit. The next morning, she called the pediatrician, who advised that she and daddy take me to the emergency room to have it x-rayed. What a way to start the holiday! Granddaddy met us at Aunt Margaret's (where we were staying) and took us to the urgent care center. Daddy and mommy say I was a real trooper. I didn't cry at all. My finger wasn't broken after all, just really blue, so I like to tell people that I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.

Topless Christmas Planning

Word on the street is that I am supposed to leave this Santa character cookies Sunday night. Most of you probably remember that my first encounter with Santa was not exactly pleasant. I have, however, been told that he will give me presents if A) I am really good and B) I leave him a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Naturally, I'm willing to give it a try if presents are at stake. Given that I probably didn't make a great impression the first time we met, I figure I should up the ante and leave him something better than cookies. I've decided to go with Chick-Fil-A's chicken salad. I've never had one of these "cookies," but I really dig chicken salad. Cookies probably wouldn't taste as good after being rubbed in your hair and on your belly the way chicken salad does, either!


What, you don't think it's a good idea? Well, we'll see who is laughing on Christmas morning!

My Thoughts on the Christmas Tree

It is only......a matter of time...
...before I eat...
these ornaments!!!

"I Want to Walk Like You, Talk Like You"

Gran and Papa have given me a new nickname: Mowgli. You remember Mowgli from "The Jungle Book" who grew up thinking he was a wolf, right? Well, they think I believe I am a dog. Frankly, I think it is too harsh of a moniker. Just because I like to look out the door, crawl around on all fours, and have a new fascination with collars doesn't mean I think I'm a doggie.

Mommy says the evidence, however, is pretty damning:

1. She caught me licking the window the other day just like Winston and W do.
2. Every day, I challenge mommy to a contest to see who can make it to Winston and W's water bowl. Today, I actually beat her and celebrated by splashing their water everywhere.
3. Leashes taste good, especially the shiny part that hooks on to those collars I want so badly.
4. My first non-"mama" or "dada" word: "Dudya," which is what I call my furry brothers (It sounds like W, but I call Winston "Dudya" as well.)

Hanging with the Dudyas