Easter hunting.

Things have gotten kind of crazy around here, what with the season of weed pulling and lawn mowing and puddle stomping having suddenly come upon us with the speed of a tulip getting munched by a famished rabbit. I couldn't let this post cruise on by, though, so put on your bunny ears and think back to those slightly darker, slightly wetter days of this past April...

Clara had no problem getting into the bunny mood.

And even less of a problem getting into the candy.

"Seriously, Mom?  You can do better than this."

Little burst of color on a dreary hill.

The hills are alive with the sound of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

Post-candy chillin' with her comrades on the couch.

Aaaaaand, back to the fashion show...

Further accessorizing.

.

This is even harder than patting your head and rubbing your belly.

kicking the style up a notch.

We recently decided that it was time that we teach Clara about one of the many important life lessons that can be learned from ZZ Top's oeuvre, namely, the value of cheap sunglasses. I think you'll agree that she was a quick learner.

Dig my cool new shades, man!

I bring you greetings from another planet.

Whoa.

First you have to open these parts, and then...

FAIL.

Perhaps I should read the instructions again.

At least we have potty training under control.

attack of the couch cushions

Clara has also been working on her theatrical skills.  A few nights ago she decided to unveil her most recent creation: a dramatic interpretation of the following poem.

Boa Constrictor, by Shel Silverstein

Oh, I'm being eaten
By a boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
A boa constrictor,
I'm being eaten by a boa constrictor,
And I don't like it--one bit.
Well, what do you know?
It's nibblin' my toe.
Oh, gee,
It's up to my knee.
Oh my,
It's up to my thigh.
Oh, fiddle,
It's up to my middle.
Oh, heck,
It's up to my neck.
Oh, dread,
It's upmmmmmmmmmmffffffffff...

Hello Elmo!

I confess, I though I'd be a tougher parent than I turned out to be. Many of my hard-line parenting philosophies have flown out the window in the past two years. For instance, my commitment to "no television before age 2" died a spectacular death about 4 months ago. And, let's be honest, who can say no to Elmo when he elicits this kind of reaction:

Happy Christmas.

(A terrible accident with the "save as draft" button happened today, resulting in the reposting of this entry. Good thing it's a classic.)

New vocabulary: "Santa" and "Snowman". These two words are interchangeable and can be used to describe everything on the Christmas tree.

New toys show up out of the blue. Can't complain about this phenomenon.





Uninterrupted time with Grandmas. Serious spoiling and mutual adoration.

Time dedicated to charming Grandpas. I'll win them over yet!

Shopping the after Christmas sales. When you're this cute, they'll let you wear it out of the store.

Bedtime routine.

Since Santa brought a flash for our camera for Christmas, we've been goofing around with it at home, trying to figure out how to improve our pictures without going blind. And what better time to fill one's vision with spots and such than bedtime? So here is a photojournalistic representation of the process traditionally referred to as the "bedtime routine."

Limbo practice.

A studious moment.

Further in-depth zoological examinations,

Followed by a quiet contemplative moment.

First-hand experiences with geometry.

Last, and most important: Le Tigre.

Maplefest 2011

A few weeks ago we went to a local farm that had a flock of maple trees in the process of providing the raw materials from which that sweet goodness which occasionally adorns our blueberry pancakes is obtained. Clara was more interested in watching and mimicking the farm animals, but we'll take what we can get.

Elliot and Clara modeling their St. Patrick's Day garb.

You can almost see the fleet-footed mischievous thoughts passing through her mind...

Of course, she still found time to be her little helpful self when Drew's stroller needed some extra pushing.