Holiday pageant? I'll pass. Thanks anyway.

Last night, the learning center's two year olds classroom presented the annual holiday pageant. At 5:30, the seats were set up in neat rows so that parents and grandparents alike could enjoy the show. The two year olds changed into their finery in hopes that no one would notice the Pull-ups lines under their outfits. The lights were dimmed. A chorus of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer filled the room. At the end of the evening, teachers from all of the classrooms were handed cards filled with cash in appreciation of all of their hard work this year.

Or so I'm told.

I woke up excited for the event yesterday morning. I wore my third tier holiday outfit, so as not to get finger paint or spaghetti on my dress for more important upcoming events. I styled my hair a little differently for the special occasion. Annabelle and I babbled about attending the production all day. My dad left work early so that he could meet my mom and we could all watch the show together.

If you think I looked cute yesterday,
you should see the first and second tier ensembles

When the time came, though, I just wasn't feeling it. I was sleepy. I had a dirty diaper. There was something crusty and ectoplasm green in my special hairdo. I wanted food, a bath and my bed and to be completely honest, getting those things didn't put me in a much more pleasant mood.

I once received the advice that unless I'm delighted to be somewhere, I shouldn't go. I always want to present my best self and since I couldn't do that last night, I guess I'll have to wait until next year to hear what Rudolph does at the end of the song to get revenge on the reindeer who called him names.

Happy birthday, Annabelle

Dear Annabelle,

Happy first birthday. You're still bald and you can't walk. What's the point?

All the best,

The Bear

Orange striped top, navy and white polka dot pants

When Miss Erica sends a note home saying you need more backup pants in your cubbie, she isn't messing around.

Farewell, Conor

This is a hard one for me. Conor is completing his transition to the toddler room today. He was my nemesis, my boyfriend, my buddy and my partner in crime all in one.

We met when I was three months and he was four months old. Ten and a half months later, we've gone through an awful lot together. Without Conor, I might never have learned to crawl or walk. I'll admit that I've spent a lot of my time at the learning center trying to keep up with him.

We didn't always get along. Most mornings, we fought for Miss Erica's attention. When she picked one of us up, the other would whine and pull on her pants until she picked up the other one, too. I was never interested in a toy or book until Conor wanted it and vice versa.

Once or twice during Conor's transition, Miss Susan has allowed me to join him in the toddler room. I think it reminds us that we'll be together again soon. I've even had the chance to reconnect with Ben a bit. The toddler room has great toys, fun things to climb and I'll admit that I'm starting to like the idea of sitting down to a meal with friends.

For now, though, I'm the last of the old crew in the infant room. Until January, I'll keep getting older while the new babies stay the same age. Sigh.

I guess you can just call me
"Wooderson" from now on.

Happy St. Nicholas Day

I still can't say I fully understand what's going on with all of these holidays my parents keep talking about but I can say I like what I see so far. This morning, there was a carton of red and green Goldfish Crackers (my most fav snack) in my Stride Rites. What?!? Awesome.

Enjoying the breakfast of champions

Maybe it's because they aren't German or maybe it's because they don't wear real shoes, yet, but it doesn't seem that any of the other infants received anything. I'm just thankful that I got my fish before my mom got the report from Miss Erica that I am still hitting babies.

Ew.

If I'm not allowed to scream in Starbucks because people are trying to enjoy their breakfasts and finish their novels, I think that the man at the table next to me should have to wear something under his sweatpants. I'm too young to see all of that stuff jingle jangling around. It's gross.

Not okay.