Saturday, November 30, 2013


I'm always rating how good things are.  It's a habit.  I'm usually quick to declare that something was the best ever, even if it probably wasn't, just because it's the freshest in my mind.  But I have no doubt that this statement is 100%, completely, totally true:

This was the best Thanksgiving ever.

I'm not sure if it's the stage of life I'm in, or the age Aniston is, or what exactly, but the whole Thanksgiving weekend was just perfect.  We have so, so, SO much to be thankful for.

We spent Thanksgiving with both our families.  Just like always, we had lunch with Bradley's family, then my family came to our house for dinner.  It was a good time. 

Aniston had a lot of fun playing with Colton.  The adults had fun, too, because the babies (who aren't really babies at all anymore) are finally at an age where we can let them play without being right there in the floor with them watching for biting, poking eyes, and such.  It was nice.

As hard as it was, I stayed true to my Black Friday declarations and didn't go shopping on Thursday night.  My mom, Aniston, and I went shopping on Friday morning around 9, which turned out to be a good time to go because it wasn't too crowded and the lines weren't bad at all.  Aniston did SO well.  Have I mentioned how much I'm loving taking her places lately?  I'm telling you, the girl is a constant source of fun.  I can't get over it.

Part of the fun is how much she's talking now.  She's a little unpredictable, so it can also be a little embarrassing (or downright mortifying) at times, too.  I've always said that parenthood is one lesson in humility after another, and this talking thing takes it to a whole new level. 

Sometimes, though, it's the best thing ever because, at two, you can get away with saying a lot more than at, say, twenty-nine.  Yesterday she told a lady at Kohl's, "You coughing!  Cover your mouth!" with this hilarious look of disgust on her face.  I did an excellent job of looking around and pretending I hadn't heard anything while silently thinking, That's my girl!  Because, really, if a two year old knows to cover her mouth, why does an adult have to be reminded?  Gross.  So, while I might want to crawl under the table every time she we're at a restaurant and she says, "I don't like that man," about the waiter who is still standing there and can hear every word she's saying, I have to admit that two year old honesty does have its good points.

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