Shameless [friend] promotion

I was first introduced to baby slings (specifically the pouch-style) when Madeline was about 15 months old. I was newly pregnant with Adelaide but hadn't told anyone, save Dolly, yet.

The first two I purchased were Hotslings. Loved 'em. I could keep Madeline on my hip, have my coffee in one hand, and the other hand clamped down tightly on Drew's wrist.

And if you know anything about a 2 1/2-year-old Drew, you know he liked to run.

Away from me.

At full speed.

Which is slightly problematic when one is standing behind a loaded cart in Wal-mart.

So anyway, I truly appreciated the hands-free benefit the sling provided.

When Adelaide was born, my love for them multiplied exponentially. Madeline followed in her brother's loving-to-run footsteps and usually would bolt in the opposite direction he had. So the hands-free thing was even more important with three small (two of which outrageously energetic) kids.

A newborn Adelaide would fall asleep immediately upon being placed in a sling. She was just so warm and cozy in there.

It's also how I currently shop; Drew and Madeline buckled in the double stroller, Adelaide in a sling on my hip. It's the only way I'll venture into Target alone with my kids.

A visual, if you will:


I like the pouch style best because it's custom fit to the mom's body; no adjusting, no extra fabric, no awkward rings, clips, or weird tying maneuvers. It's simple and straightforward, easy to pop on and is comfortable for everyone.  There are three ways to wear them that grow with your baby from newborn to toddler. Plus they are super cute!

And I'm always on the lookout for a cute accessory.

So, back when I received my first one in the mail, after looking at it closely, I just knew I could make them.  And since then I've made myself...well, a few.

Which is why I was so excited when WonderGirl decided to open up her shop and even asked me to help with the extra sewing.  This little post is simply a shout-out; you really should pop on over and see her Etsy store and drool over all the cuteness.

She has a wide selection of darling fabrics and also an option for customizing using a fabric of your own choice (that no one else has!).  I also should mention that hers are more cost-effective than Hotslings, for those of you frugal at heart.

So to go check it out, click here!  And for pete's sake, tell us what you think!  (Depending on the number of comments, I may even be able to weasel a giveaway out of her.  Not that I've asked her yet, but, you know, minor details.)

*sigh*

Dear Adelaide,

Six poopy diapers in a nine hour period is more than enough.

Kindly remember tomorrow.

- your loving Mama

Home again, home again, jiggety jig

Thank you, Lord, that Andy was home to take Drew to the ER. He got three staples -- okay let's not talk about that anymore.

It was pretty cute when they got home, Drew practically banged the door down exclaiming "I'm home!" And then proceeded to tell me how the doctor made his head all better. Andy even took him to Target on the way home for a new shiny car and also a pack of Skittles. So I'm sure he's quite recovered now. He even shared happily with Madeline.

And speaking of Madeline, the entire time the boys were gone, she marched around with her monkey, baby doll, and purse gravely proclaiming she was taking her baby to the hospital to get its head fixed.

I wonder how many more days I'm going to have to listen to this.

Little bit o' drama

I had a post planned for tonight, but Andy just took Drew to the ER for possible stitches on the back of his head. I wasn't in the room to see it but, as far as I can tell, Drew and Madeline were horsing around (as usual) and he must have knocked his head on the corner of the coffee chest. I knew immediately from his cry that he truly was hurt; he's made of rubber and typically doesn't cry much.

Unless he has to get off his bike and go to bed. Which is understandable.

And I'll save you the rest of the details. But it sort of sucked the life out of me and any post I might have had right along with it.

Hopefully I'll have an update later saying he's home and it turned out to not be a big deal.

It’s my birthday, I get to pick

First we went to dinner at the Olive Garden.

(What’s that? I think I can hear Steve Lewin and his French taste buds, laughing at me all the way from Chattanooga.)

(I don’t think I need to tell you that he eats Ramen.)

(We all have our vices.)

(Mine is just sometimes in the form of chain Italian food. And shoe stores.)

Now where was I? Oh yes…I’ve been feeling a need for toasted ravioli and fresh Italian salad. And a breadstick or twenty never hurt anyone.

(Well, unless you’re allergic.)

And then we went to this fancy schmancy movie theater (with a coffee shop in the lobby, even) and saw “21.” While sipping mochas. Alone without kids.

The movie (based on a true story, you know) had a lot of similarities to the Ocean movies. (Minus the George Clooney and Brad Pitt parts, however.) We had a fun time. If you liked the Ocean movies, you’ll probably like 21.

And when we got back to Andy’s parents’ house to pick up the kids, Adelaide was walking around their living room.

Wonders, they never cease.

Getting clumsy in my old age.

Oops.

Stranded.

I mentioned that we got new tags on the cars – well, sort of. But unfortunately when Andy went to get the horn fixed on his car, the dealer declared the car unsafe to drive because the engine mounts were all broken, as was the engine cap and some other, smaller things.

Doesn’t that just make your day?

We’re debating the wisdom in pouring money into an “old” car; it’s risky because even then it might fail inspection. So for the time being, it’s been sitting in our driveway, collecting pollen.

Which means, lucky me, Andy’s been driving MY DEAR SWEET AND NOW TOTALLY OVERWORKED AND UNDERAPPRECIATED Odyssey. Oh, how we do miss each other. I’m pining after our old day trips to the park or Target or to meet up with friends for spur-of-the-moment adventures.

And, until we decide on some things, I might be without wheels for quite some time. I’m sure you feel my pain.

(Oh, my birthday? Spent at home, stranded of course. And to top it off, Andy had a wine dinner for work that night. But I’m not bitter. I am, however, looking forward to Saturday, when we have Andy’s mom to watch the kids and we can go out and have us a little fun.)

A friend had even invited us down to the beach yesterday with her and her kids but since it’s not within walking distance, I had to decline. I’m sure it’s the beginning of many rain checks for us – oh sad, sad day.

For now, though, we’ll try to keep distracted with a steady stream of friends coming here. Boring posts are sure to come.

But at least now I have plenty of housecleaning tips.

Quick Question

Does anyone have a weekly house cleaning schedule that, you know, actually works?

The Life and Times of Andy's Hair

[Now, before you think me a terrible wife, let it be known I have full authorization to hit the "publish" button when I'm finished with this post. And thank you, honey, for being such a good sport.]

A couple of years ago I caught Andy, hunched over the toilet, shaving all his hair off. He was going to become the next great swimmer or something.

(He even made me buy him a particular piece of men's swimming attire that I will not specifically mention here. Ahem.)

(And he did go swim some laps.)

(Once.)

Yesterday I dug through some of our old pictures and actually found a photo of him right after he had buzzed his hair:


Anyway, I had warned him before this little shaving spree that if he ever did shave his head, I would get a haircut of my own. A short one. And even though he’s typically a fan of longer hair on me, clearly my threat accomplished nothing.

I promptly had my hairdresser friend cut my hair; I was pregnant with Madeline at the time. I even found an old picture of it, too:


It was a fun change. That’s really all I have to say about that.

Except.

This past weekend I was sitting here at the dining table, reading through my Google Reader, and I heard the bathroom door shut quietly upstairs, and the buzzers turn on. I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

I took the stairs two at a time, and threw open the bathroom door. There was Andy, caught red-handed with the clippers again.

Me, amused: “What are you doing?”

Him, sputtering: “I, uh... I need a summer cut. Look, it’s a Number Eight. It’s not that short.”

Me: “Okay, but you should do shorter on the sides and back. And if you need help trimming the neckline, I’ll come back.”

Here’s what I came back to:


That, my friends, is no Number Eight.


That is a Number Four.

Oh my.

I may be paying my hairdresser a quick little visit.

BUT! I found some other photo album gems while I was digging around and let's just take a fun little walk down the memory lane of Andy's Hair. You game? Good!

Here's one from when we were in college and Andy was studying abroad in Vienna. Some of my cousins and I were studying in the South of France and he came for a visit. This is what he looked like upon first walking in the door:


I whisked him off for a haircut and shave, posthaste:


His hair and beard grown out for the Madrigal Dinner (I think his senior year?):


Our first Christmas married (still long; no beard):


Cut short for his senior recital:


Short, add goatee (I was pregnant with Drew):


This one says it all:


Who is this next guy? Doesn't look too familiar...


Wow. Shouldn't you be in Hollywood filming something?


Well. Nevermind.


(Also the funniest bed-head picture you'll ever see.)

More bed heads:


At least Drew comes by it honestly.


The Mop Tops. (Above and below.)


This family is obviously not lacking in the hair department.

Cut again short for my cousin Courtney's wedding:


Long again by Thanksgiving:


Still long at Adelaide's birth:


Cut for her baptism, understandably:


To conclude, here's a more recent picture of Andy's hair (also entitled 'Meet My YouTube Junkies'):


And thankfully this Number Four business won't take too long to grow out.

Happy Birthday To Me

Welp, folks, I've made it to 28.

[And I always thought it was fitting that I was born on the 22nd day of April and the 22nd chapter of Genesis is where I was named from: (vs. 2) "Then He said, "Take now your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah..."

And you thought my name was pulled out of a hat.]

I'll do a real post tomorrow, I promise.

Another Drew clip, courtesy of my sister

I had forgotten about this! My sister sent it to me in the comments on the last post. I think he was 3 when this was taken, at our old backyard in Tennessee. (It's my sisters who are talking to him.)

Mom, you're not gonna believe this!

Drew has been begging Andy to take his training wheels off. We keep deflecting his requests with "when it gets warm/hot/to be summer outside." And then every time we comment on the weather he pipes up with "can we take my training wheels off now?" as if on cue.



That clip was taken only about 20 minutes after the wheels came off.

And, well, this should keep him occupied for the next fourteen years.

Hello, Summer, how I love you.

Except for my kids' black feet after running around without shoes all day. That rubber mulch at the playground is not for the faint of heart. Or the clean freak mother, for that matter.

We all got quite a bit of sun today, Madeline's even lookin' a little tan. (And I just talked to a friend who got our beach tags for us and we are rearin' to go! Not swimming, mind you. That water will be cold. But we can do the sun and sand. For days on end. All summer long.)

Anyone else have big summer plans?

Car Safety

This totally convinced me.

My day? Long. Yours?

It started out way too early, for one thing.

A little background info... I would never have put Drew in a pink Disney Princess training pant. Being my first child, I was concerned with such things and would have made the special trip back to the store to exchange the pink ones I mistakenly bought for the blue ones with whichever quasi-masculine character was plastered all over them at the time.

Poor Madeline, she’s not so lucky. The other day I accidentally bought her a box of training pants (oh how I desperately want to type “Pull-ups,” but I don’t buy those kind because I can’t stand ‘em) and when I got home realized they were the blue ones covered in Diego. (And I really know nothing about Diego except that his face is on shoes, t-shirts, and diapers worldwide.)

I figured they’d work just as well for Madeline and wasn’t about to take a separate trip just to exchange them for pink. For pete’s sake already.

Except they really are made for boys. Ahem. Poor girl woke up a few nights ago in a sopping wet bed.

And then last night, it happened again. Except I was out of clean bedding for her because a) it had just happened and the clean bedding was still down in the laundry room, and b) someone locked the laundry room door again. From the inside, that is.

I didn’t think Andy would appreciate me waking him up to open the laundry room door at 4 in the morning. (Just a guess.) And I was too tired/lazy to think of another solution so I made Madeline sleep with us. And a toddler in your bed is not known to be the world’s greatest sleep, even if they don’t kick.

So, okay, we got up a little early. And a little cranky even.

And then, as Andy was about ready to leave for work, he looked out the window and noticed a pair of cops having a little pow-wow in our driveway. He spent the next 45 minutes fretting about whether or not they could see/would even notice our expired Tennessee license plates.

They finally left, apparently none the wiser about our illegal tags. But we decided maybe we should bite the bullet and go get our new drivers’ licenses and plates. So we packed up the crew, drove around, got lost, got lost some more, and finally arrived at the DMV, otherwise known as a little taste of hell on earth.

I’ll skip that part. Let’s just say that several hours, some dirty looks and plenty of embarrassment and hassle later, we got our new licenses. Andy got the new plates for his car and I got our paperwork rolling to get the van ones done (since, hello, financing? It’s a whole other set of hoops.).

And for now, let’s just ignore the fact that we’ve lived in this house since October. (Although, in our defense, our Tennessee ones only just expired.)

Needless to say, with all our outings and appointments this week, this house has been woefully neglected. Which I’ll get right on.

Really.

For My Records

I took Adelaide to her 1-year well check today. It was a much better experience than last time, but she still screamed. I think she just remembered everything and got mad.

But, it was a female doctor this time, and she was wonderful. I was so glad because I was pretty close to switching practices altogether.

She is 75% for height and about 48% for weight - coming in at a not-so-whopping 21 pounds. I think I'll turn her car seat around now. She won't be able to see the kids anymore, which might be sad and slightly less entertaining, but at least she'll have some leg room.

An angel friend watched the other two for me, which made the overall experience much calmer and almost even stress-free.

Two Good Posts

On mothering and love, here;

and the election, here.

Madeline, the twelve year old

Today was gorgeous. We spent the morning and a picnic lunch with some friends at a local playground. Madeline hammed it up as usual, acting like she’s at least twelve. I don’t know where that girl gets her material.

Which reminds me. Yesterday morning as I was first coming down the stairs, all I could think about was “MAN, SOMETHING STINKS IN HERE!”

I turned the corner to find Madeline had tried to change Adelaide’s diaper. By herself.

It might have been kind of funny, if not for the poop on the carpet.

Here she is the other night, commanding Adelaide to eat her food:


And then watching to make sure the baby listened and obeyed:


She didn't.

(*In case you don't know us in real life, Madeline is really only 2 1/2.)

The Zoo, Revisited

I thought I could get away with cheating on my zoo post. But then I got a comment asking how it went and if I recommended taking a two-year-old visiting nephew there.

Honestly I would have written more about our big trip to the zoo but by the time we got home Friday afternoon, I was so tired and dirty I could barely manage to get dinner on the table and the kids to bed. Writing a coherent blog post seemed more like a far off pipe dream.

And then there were Fashion Fiesta closets to explore, and my own dishes to ignore. Priorities, see?

Anyway, we went with our little self-formed playgroup. I was sort of glad because Andy’s parents had bought us a year-long pass and the last time we went was way back in September, the day they bought it. I was starting to feel a wee bit guilty and wasteful about that. (But then again, it’s not like freezing at the zoo on a wintry day with a bunch of toddlers sounded like a whole lot of fun either.)

There were 5 of us mothers, two of which are expecting (and neither of those is me, just so we’re straight). 8 kids ranging in age, with Drew as the oldest. And he’s only 4. Let’s just say there was some chasing involved.

We gagged our way through the monkey exhibits first. Sometimes I really just could not believe the smell. The kids, of course, didn’t seem to notice. We wandered around outside a good bit (elephants and the like), and also went to this indoor playroom (term used loosely).

Since it costs almost as much as a mortgage to eat food from the zoo restaurants (term also used loosely), we brought our own lunches and ate outside on one of the picnic tables. Ellis and Drew pretty much ran around in the mulch instead of eating. Well I guess they had the Frito bag… Drew also took it upon himself to push over the huge zoo garbage bin.

More of those proud moments in parenting history.

I wish I could tell you that I, being the responsible mother that I am, set it to right. But I made an executive decision to leave it for the zookeepers. After all, I still had to touch my baby and didn’t think giving her some sort of contractible disease would be a very motherly thing to do.

After lunch we went to the petting zoo area. Which was great because it’s all contained, with a huge farm tractor (non-functioning) right in the middle. I bet you can guess where Drew stayed the whole time.

Other than the highway robbery in the form of $0.50 for a half-handful of pellets to feed the petting-zoo animals, it was fun for everyone. Madeline was a little skittish about feeding the goats, which are clearly just practically starving; but she did manage to hold out two separate pellets (with a little, er, help from me).

Unfortunately my kids took their shoes off, and since the petting zoo ground is made of dirt, their feet were a nice shade of black when we left. I was still scrubbing dirty feet a few baths later.

We saw the giraffes, zebras, and stopped at the polar bear exhibit (“paula bear” a la Madeline) on our way out. Of course Drew and Madeline fell asleep within a nanosecond of getting in the van and their only nap that day was driving home. Makes for a slightly-cranky evening all around.

So that was the longer version of the day at the zoo. Taking only one two-year-old will be practically like a vacation.

Except minus the pina coladas.

Itty Bitty No More

I had a little bit of a revelation Saturday night.

Adelaide? She's not so itty-bitty anymore.

We drove up to some of our old Chattanooga friends' house for dinner - burgers and fellowship, what could be better? (Well, unless you're a vegetarian. But I won't hold it against you.)

They have a brand spankin' new baby. And next to her, Adelaide looked like a big monster. A cute one though. It was the first time my eyes were opened to how big she is. Not compared to other babies her own age, she's been pretty consistent with the 50th percentile. But just that she's growing up.

I could not help but stare at her and wonder where she came from.

That third baby, they sort of sneak up on you.

Wow

Thank you for all the comments and sweet words on yesterday’s fashion post!

You people know how to make a girl smile.

And, you better believe next time I need a little, erm, confidence boost, I’ll be talking all about fake diamonds and too-many shoes and pasting it all over at Big Mama’s.

See? I do what works.

And on a completely unrelated topic, what kind of peanut butter do you buy?

Yes, I must know.

Come on, lurkers, pipe up!

Today

We went to the zoo.

The end.

Because I love me some fashion talk

Big Mama is hosting a little Fashion Fiesta today so because I love me some fashion (and hypothetical prizes), here goes.

What is my everyday mom look? Well, for starters, jeans in the winter. I've never been much of one for the yoga pant, although I do own a pair that I actually like. But I wouldn't want to give off any false impressions that I'm about to hit the gym or something.

I'm honest like that.

Really, I just feel better prepared (at least mentally) to tackle a day of dishes and poopy diapers if I'm showered, 'got my face on,' and dressed in jeans. And a cute shirt. Don't forget the cute shirt. Earrings, optional.

Here's an example of an everyday staple shirt for me (sleeves added in winter):


And no, I wouldn't wear the necklace during the day. It would get ripped off and broken to pieces. Besides, I just returned that necklace. It hung kind of funny on an actual human neck.

But I would add this necklace if we were going to leave the house for an occasion that required a little accessorizing:


I just bought that shirt pictured above last weekend (along with another pinkish-lavender one) because they were 2 for $30 at Ann Taylor Loft. It's those kind of staple pieces that I don't mind spending a little bit more on since that knit is a higher quality and will last longer in my wardrobe.

Also, the darker rinse denim seems to be where it's at these days. And it's not about the money - wear jeans that look good and you feel good in. If they're expensive, fine. But just because they're expensive doesn't mean they're lookin' good. Likewise, I've found some really great jeans for cheap (usually at Target and Old Navy).

I like to change the denim up a bit with capris in the spring and fall. And also, I do wear skirts and even shorts during the warmer months. I'm currently a fan of the city short (although it's still a bit cool for that here). And I do realize they're not for everyone.

I've been thoroughly enjoying wearing this spring jacket, which I found at Target:


And also this shirt, which I wore on our not-so romantic double date last weekend:


The fun details:


(I wore it with my dark trouser jeans and those cursed wedges.)

Now, let's talk about Sundays. We go to a church where it's still appropriate to dress up a bit (which I like). So we do pull out the fancy on a weekly basis (which I also like; keeps us civilized). Here's a current Sunday wardrobe example:


I wear it either with black pants or a knee-length, black skirt with a flared hem that I've had for a few years.

I do have a random picture of me wearing this, taken last Sunday. (I was going to crop out my head but Andy pointed out that you wouldn't be able to see the matching earrings I just happened to have, purchased over two years ago. Gotta love those fashion coincidences.)


(Please excuse my pasty white winter arms. Ahem.)

And speaking of the bling, a well-placed pair of earrings or necklace can spice up an otherwise plain and basic top. A few more of my favorites right now:



And in my opinion every gal needs a big ole pair of these fake (ahem, I meant faux) earrings:


$8 at Walgreens, of all places.

Now, I realize I haven’t really said a word about footwear. And that’s because I’ve inherited a keen shoe obsession from my mother and if I opened Pandora’s shoebox, we might be here until I am old and gray.





See what I mean?

I blame my mother.

But you know what’s funny? The shoes I wear most are the cheap flips from Target.



Go figure.

[***In the interest of full disclosure, most of those shoes are from past birthdays and Christmases or from clearance racks across America. I promise I didn't use the milk money!]

For more Spring Fashion Fiesta, click over here!

Just call me industrious

Clearly, we have a problem.


So this is what I did during naptime today:


All by myself; no Andy in sight.

Unbelievable!

It just happened again.

Meat n' Potatoes

*I really posted this last week, coincidentally also on Wednesday. Mer suggested linking it to WFMW and, well, I aim to please. So here ya go!

One of my friends (from way back in high school!) recently asked if I would pass on some of my favorite recipes to her. I'm sure I've posted this on Let's Eat! but since I made the recipe for this concoction up, I decided it'd be easier for her to visualize my directions.

And, lucky for me, this is what we ate for dinner last night.

So, here is my go-to meal when I realize it's 5 o'clock and I have about as many brain cells left.

Brown a pound and a half or so of ground beef (or turkey, based on your preference). Drain the fat. Add in frozen hash browns, like so:


(I've also used the shredded kind.) Cover and let the potatoes cook; they should be fork-soft and slightly browned.

On a side note, here's a kitchen tip. My college housemates and I used to buy huge packages of meat and then section off dinner portions into ziplock baggies, smash them flat, and stack 'em in the freezer. It's SUCH a time and money saver. And if you need meat for a recipe such as this one, just pop one in the microwave for about a minute or so. The portions are already flat so the meat doesn't take long to thaw once it's in a frying pan.

Oh yes, a visual:


Once the potatoes are done, stir in a can of celery soup and about 1/3 cup of half n' half.

Don't judge me because I use cream of celery soup. The store brand, even.

Sprinkle generously with Lowry's Garlic Salt. (Not seasoned salt; this is the one with the green cap. Another of my kitchen staples.)

Add in grated sharp cheddar cheese, like so:


Stir it in and let it melt.


Now, you could stop there. But I like to sneak vegetables into my kids' food.

So while the potatoes are getting soft, I usually throw some frozen veggies (in water) in the microwave. This bowl of green beans cooked in about 7 minutes, on high. If the beans aren't soft when you try to spear 'em with a fork, try another minute or two.


Get it all mixed in good. (So your kids won't notice the green beans, obviously.)


The finished (and very yummy) product:


Even Adelaide gobbled this up.

Except I still haven't vacuumed.

I was all set to post about how I broke my Monday Rule and took Drew to get his 4-year-old pictures at Penney's today.

Since his birthday was the beginning of January.

Just call me punctual.

I had his clothes ironed and ready, (even planned a blue shirt for my mom since apparently she can't hang pictures up unless the specimen is dressed in blue), and was about to march my kids out to their carseats when I couldn't find my keys. Anywhere.

And keys are sometimes handy for operating a vehicle.

I frantically looked around the house and then finally called Andy to see if he remembered seeing them laying around. There was a slight pause and then, "uh, they're in my pocket."

All that to say, we did not get pictures taken today.

Which was really quite fine; this house was in need of some serious TLC. Andy highjacking my keys meant I was totally stranded at home...I could either stand and gawk at the mess or get to cleaning it.

(Although, I must admit, burning the house down and starting from scratch did cross my mind a few times. Or at least burning all the laundry. But that would hardly have been cost-effective.)

(And it might have smelled a little.)

So hopefully we'll have better success with both the keys and the pictures tomorrow.

(Mostly) Footloose and Fancy Free

Sometime last week Andy mentioned that we hadn’t had a date in a while (yeah, I noticed), and then later I heard him talking to his mom about her availability to baby-sit. And then I heard a little scheming going on with Ezra, and so needless to say I started getting a little excited about what was clearly forming up to be a romantic double date with our city-dwelling friends.

I talked Andy out of keeping it a surprise. Some people like surprises; I’m not one of them. I think half the fun is planning and looking forward to an event. Or date, whichever.

So, in his most sugar-coated voice, he told me how we were going to have dinner at an ‘authentic British pub’ and then [fake coughing under breath] watch the NCAA Final Four.

Beer and basketball. Is that at the top of your list of all-time romantic dates? Yeah, me either.

But we had lots of fun anyway, other than walking several city blocks in these evil shoes. (And also stepping in a questionable puddle coming out of the subway system. I made the mistake of wiping my wet ankle and then the further mistake of smelling my hand. Which I will never do again. I spent the rest of the walk to their house holding my hand out as far away from me as possible.)

I think next time we'll take the boys to a fashion show. Equal opportunity and all that.

The SAHS

(Stay-At-Home-Son)



He dressed himself today, can you tell?

Sneaking Sweets

First of all, this is the outfit she was wearing when I opened the door after her nap. Who says two-and-a-half-year-olds don't have a sense of style?


Caught red-handed with the marshmallow bag:




The monkey method of procurement:


Helping herself to the candy basket:


(Keeping it out of reach is clearly pointless.)