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December 17, 2008


Awesome Mom

What kid has not dreamed of finding a hairball in their stocking?

Keri (Auburn Gal Always)

That cracks me up!

Oh, to be 5 again!

Mary O.

Too cute! Thinking of you all and wishing you Happy Holidays!


And if you have a hairball in your stocking, what do you need? Why, tweezers to remove it, of course. Thanks, Santa!


Miss you guys so much! Maybe we can get together over break???


Why, this is just an adequate illustration of the reasons for this little mouse's rather puzzled look!




Well, I think you and Frankie should DEFINITELY win the Kindle! And I really HOPE Santa gives poor Frankie more than a HAIRBALL and tweezers! (And I thought it was pathetic that her cousin, Rayna, just wanted a dirty clothes hamper for Christmas...seems I did not even KNOW the depths of pathetic afterall!)


PS (I am so NOT ORGANIZED this year. Just got round to mailing the girls' package today...but, I think it will still make it by Christmas! We got your package ages ago and the presents are arranged quite nicely, though lonelily, under our tree...if it wasn't for Aunt Reena, the tree probably wouldn't even be up yet...but, Grant was convicted by your packages stacked week after week on the piano, so he and the kids put the tree up over the weekend!)


Her answers in the promotional video were darling. The hairball, I don't get. She is so funny. My nephew asked for a shiny green stone when he was about as old as Frankie. My poor brother frantically called me on Christmas eve and breathed into the phone "I'm dead, where am I gonna find a shiny green stone in this city?!?!?!". I told him to check out a rock shop, and wa-la!



David (from NMSU)

That's hilarious!

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Falling Down, November 2004

  • Balloon in hand, my 4-year-old
    twirled across the kitchen floor,
    singing nonsense words
    in her own key.
    "It's my gift!" she declared
    to the world at large, which
    was really only me,
    sitting at the table. Enough
    twirling, and she lost
    her balance, tumbling
    to the floor in a theatrical
    slapstick of elbows and knees.

    She lay on her back
    for a few seconds,
    at the textured ceiling
    with the mysterious
    spaghetti sauce stain.
    Suddenly she
    flapping her arms and legs
    there on the floor, as if to swish
    the imaginary snow
    into a snow angel.

    "Falling down is also a gift!" says she.

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