It's Hard Being 17 Months Old

They dress you up in constrictive clothing.


They don't honor your wishes to be freed.

They drag you out into the snow.


They don't pick you up when you want to be picked up.

They drag you over to the sledding hill, even though sledding looks dangerous.

They insist on documenting your discomfort.

Then, to top it all off: they put you in an inner tube and slide you down the hill.

It's hard being 17 months old. When am I gonna get some respect?

Oh X-Mas Tree

We spent a nice Thanksgiving in Buffalo. On our way back, we stopped at Eby's Pines and Campground to cut down our tree in the middle of a snowstorm. (We should mention that this year's drive back was much better than last year's.)

Benny entertained himself pretty well over the 7 hours of driving. His father's gloves were amusing.


We got to Eby's, and the snow had been falling for about an hour.


But, undaunted, we set out to find our tree.



On the way, we tried a couple of family portraits. This was the most successful one, although it did not make it onto this year's Christmas card.



Benny helped and Momma helped.


Poppa helped.

Humans: 1, trees: 0.


We dragged our kill to the car triumphantly.


Daddy killed a tree!



And what a glorious tree it is!

(Tree design by AKKA.)

(We should say that this year's tree is even more glorious than the Christmas tree we had in Madrid.)