Don't Eat Christmas Tree. Eat Food.

Sage advice from the Ryanator.
Directed at Jeremy cat.

Still no knock-knock-knocking at Pelvic's Door from the Baby Sister. Personally, I was glad she waited this long, since I had taken three days off to help work on the nursery, do some last-minute shopping, and wrap presents.
However, "Don't give birth until Monday so you don't ruin the weekend" was admittedly a poor choice of words.

After three days together (and one of them a full day with no nap), Ryan was used to me being around. Apparently didn't believe Mommy when she told him Daddy wasn't here, so he looked all over. "I want Daddy!" he said adamantly.

Took a stroll up Pocomoke after dinner to look at Christmas lights. Still a little early, but everyone in the cul-de-sac now has something up, so that's festive. Ainsley finally finished her mini-Redskins tree on the front porch yesterday.
Don't pee on Christmas Tree, Griffin. Pee on Back Yard.