Nothing Says "I Love You" Like a Corndog

My Dear Little Valentines,

Well, you've done it. Just by being born, you have brought out all my latent minor holiday goofiness. Thanksgiving? Oh, we are so making hand turkeys and Pilgrim hats. 4th of July? That's right. We're wearing and eating all red, white, and blue. I'm even starting to wax enthusiastic over completely pretend holidays like Chick-Fil-A Cow Appreciation Day. Let's all dress up like cows!

Really, during some of these holidays I have been tempted to quilt us some matching theme vests. It's that bad.

So Valentine's Day presents all sorts of opportunities to be all pink and red and heart-y and to shower you with fun and love and kisses.

Yummy Valentine's cookies!

New stepstools! (These may or may not have been waiting unassembled and unpainted in the garage since Christmas 2009. I will never tell.)

Fun times before Valentine's Dinner!

All such fun ways for me and Daddy to love on you and celebrate this cheesy little Hallmark great holiday.

But truth be told, the cookies, the stepstools, the little presents -- they're nice, but...

I know the best way to say:

BATTER-WRAPPED HOT DOGS ON A STICK.

Love,

Mom

Well, That Explains It

The boys are all playing outside. Andrew walks out the door, carrying a novel.

Me: Hey, Andrew, where are you going with that book?

Andrew: Outside to watch Adam and Josh play Wedgie Giver.

Can't believe I needed to ask.

Cinderelmo