Jolly Old Soul

If Gabriella is this excited to meet a plastic Santa then stick a corncob pipe in my mouth and call me Frosty because I'm going to need to tether her to the ground before she meets the real thing. If I don't, she's likely to rise to the ceiling of the Natick Mall as if she were a float in the Macy's Parade.

All I want for Christmas

I used to wonder what type of person asks Santa for two front teeth. But now I'm sleep deprived. Beyond sleep deprived. Because I live with a baby who is cutting his two front teeth. So Santa? Can you please bring me two front teeth? Soon, DAMMIT!

Dear Santa

Today Gabriella turns twenty-nine months and the world turns the corner toward the most wonderful time of year.

Santa is a daily topic of conversation in our house. Gabriella gets the presents, the milk and cookies, the carrots for the reindeer. But the letter to Santa confuses her. She keeps listing toys she has instead of toys she wants. Until today.

Today in the grocery store checkout line Gabriella thought of something Santa could bring her: ice cream. And oh, she didn't want to go home to take a nap. She wanted to go to the North Pole.