Sweet Things

The weekend just flew by, as usual.  Our weekends now consist of just constant playtime with Violet.  And Violet plays hard.  Seriously, we have to nap when she naps.  She loves to stand over us as we semi-scream in high-pitched voices, "Heelllppppp!  This baby is attacking me!!!!"  She giggles as she comes down open-mouthed on our faces and leaves us smothered in baby slobber.  Then, when you think that's the worst of it, she body slams you like she's training for the WWE.  (That's World Wrestling Entertainment for those of you who are unworldly.)

As I was giving Violet a bath Saturday evening, I made a comment to Jon about how I needed to clip Violet's nails before church the next morning.  I didn't want her mauling some poor, innocent child.  I almost died as Jon proceeded to tell me how Violet shoved damn near her whole finger up his nose with the force of ten men and then fish hooked him on her way back out.  

It could be worse.  She could start biting us.  If it gets that bad though, we'll probably just toss her outside to scare the possum that's living in our shed (true story) away.

Sunday the stars aligned.  Actually, let's call it what it was, the divine intervention of God.  Violet slept-in until 9 o'clock in the morning.  This kind of thing probably won't happen again until she's a teenager.

And now it's Monday again, which for us means red beans and rice.

And root beer floats.