To start our day off right: tacos at El Chilito. Migas for Fletcher, plain cheese for Louisa. I should take this moment to note that she has said her first words! "Uh-oh" was the first, followed the next day by "tickle".
And the other day, word three! "Cheese", pronounced "Chssss".
Dallas and I had prepped most of our Thanksgiving meal in advance, which left the kitchen free for Fletcher to make the dessert: pumpkin dump cake.
I know, it sounds gross, right? The beauty of it is that he was able to so much of it by himself. He mixed the canned pumpkin, the evaporated milk, and the sugar...
Sorta coordinating Thanksgiving outfits, enlivened with some flair: Halloween socks and buttoned-up collar.
Brussels sprouts with pistachios and shallots; chestnut stuffing; mushroom gravy; cranberry sauce and cranberry relish; stuffed pumpkin. Not shown: mashed potatoes.
We talked about the things we are thankful for. Fletcher surmised that Louisa is thankful for milk, "things babies eat" and her family. He's mainly just thankful for his family..."65 thankful".
"65 thankful" is a big, big deal around here. "65" is kind of the ultimate number. No, I don't know why. For example: "Fletcher, are you hungry?" "I'm really hungry, Mama! I'm 65 hungry!'.
On rare occasion, it is possible to like something more than 65. The scale goes something like this:
All the numbers below 65
"as much as our house"
65
"more than 65"
infinity
infinity plus one
Dallas claims that he once heard something described as "65 infinity", but that's a concept too big for me to wrap my head around.
...pausing only to admire the ceiling fan. She loves a good ceiling fan. Like, she loves the ceiling fan 65 .