I forgot to tell you all something very important. This picture is about a month old. Since that time, we have escorted our daughter through some dark days indeed, and she is now on her way to binky recovery. That's right. The binky is dead! About time, you say when I'm not looking? Well, I'd been putting it off but was going to conquer it with the new year, then things went to heck in a hand basket and I just didn't have the moral stamina it took to break her of it. Then (scary introductory music, please) she threw the mother of all tantrums at Costco. I mean, t-a-n-t-r-u-m. Ben and I are not very tolerant of that behavior at any time, but in a public place screaming "DADDY! BINKY! MOM, NO!!! BINKY!!!! DAAADDDDDDDYYYYYY!!!!!" while trying to hit me and arching her back and generally spazzing out -- that led to quick and decisive action. No more binky during the day. A second tantrum and sneaky devious behavior (she is shockingly clever) led me to snip the top off the precious instrument about a week after that. Three weeks later, we are binky free and lovin' it! Go, Olivia! I knew you could do it -- you are a champion!!!
Next child suffers the consequences and the pacifier of choice is sailing off a bridge at 18 months.
I am starting an official petition to change the name of the local landmark Molly's Nipple to Molly's Mountain. My own dear mom-in-law created this wholesome alternative, and I love it. I take a great deal of harassment from the young men of this ward for this courageous decision, but really, I do it for them! That name is crass and they are trying to keep their minds pure -- I am determined to help them do it! We are hiking said landmark this week for mutual. I will bravely face their teasing and encourage you all to take a stand for human anatomical privacy! Molly's Mountain. I feel for that poor pioneer woman's modesty, and for heavens sake, who was the pioneer perv who named it such? Sigh.
I am a huge Jazz fan. All four members of this household love the Jazz. It has been painful to watch our dreams fizzle into sporty smoke! I theorize it's because we no longer have television. How can they win when we can't cheer for them?! Down with the Lakers. Who gives a poop about them, anyway? I've heard they smell, especially Kobe Bryant. He is very stinky, indeed. I just love the Jazz. In fact, I have three Jazz boyfriends. Ben knows about this and approves! In first place, Paul Milsap. Tough, with arms that dreams are made of. In second place (because I can't go with the crowd and make him first), Kyle Korver. He is like a California dream boat. First he shoots the three, then he pushes his hair back. Korver, you are so dreamy! In third place, but never last, Matt Harpring. I just love any man that can kick the crap out of every other man on the field. Ben (my husband, remember him?) totally approves of my choices. He's proud I have such good taste in basketball players! I try to kindly appoint him a jazz dancer or two per game. That's just the kind of woman I am.
I literally only learned the rules of basketball about three years ago. It's awesome. And this story has such an inspiring moral, too -- it's never too late to learn new things (sniff). Remember that, kids.