This is why I hate red pasta sauce.

I recently got a new dining room table and chairs and while my old set was upholstered and in severe danger of imminent ruin from a drop of red pasta sauce, my new dark wood unupholstered chairs were hardly in peril.

In my exhuberance though, I neglected to consider the garments my child was wearing when he picked up his fork and dropped his ravioli onto his chest where it promptly rolled into his lap, leaving a trail of vicious red stain on the way down.

And even that was nothing compared to what he would then do to his face. Or his hair. Or the inside of his ear.





And Jordy is finally able to wear the new winter coat that Grandma and Peepaw bought for her. We had to do some serious car seat strap adjusting to get this bulky pile of nylon and human child secured safely in her seat. We laughed as we drove her to gymnastics, as her eyeballs were the only thing on her entire body that could move. But she sang and told us stories all while trapped tightly in her new warm fuzzy coat.