A new romper and an old monkey

Last week I made a little romper for Milly that turned out much too big. So I went back to the worktable and created a new pattern from the old. This one fits much better; however, I didn't adjust the armseye opening which is still too deep, but Milly seems quite happy.  

I am over it, though. I have too many other things going on, especially this week. Our church is celebrating it's 90th Anniversary and we are planning several events to mark the occasion. One of those events is to create a directory with photographs of the parishioners. 

I'm the gal in charge, so to speak, and this week LifeTouch
photographers are in house. I've scheduled people for three days of portraits. That's all well and good, until the day arrives.  But no more complaining. Tomorrow is the last day of photographers. 

Besides there's good news in the house: the kids have moved to their own (new) house and we have spent a night in our own home. The last night we slept in the camper, Cotton found Milly's stuffed monkey. It's quite old and beginning to shed and leave crumbles.

But apparently Cotton finds it just right for napping. Now that we're back in the house, Milly has access to most of her toys, so Cotton has gained a hand-me-down monkey. He's quite protective of it. Just getting a couple of pictures of him was a little difficult: I was not allowed to touch his new toy. 

Sock Monkey Photo Shoot

Yesterday I told you about the battle of the sock monkey and how I lost both the battle and the war.

Well, apparently I also lost some photo space on my phone.  When the grands come they often use a phone to call their parents or a friend.  I try to avoid that because if someone asks to borrow a phone, it generally means that the someone has lost phone privileges.  Getting between a punished grandchild and an angry mother is not the smartest thing anyone can do, and I try to be smart.

Richard keeps his phone attached to his hip, literally, and it's not a smart phone, so it's below their standards to begin with.  My phone, an Android (?) suits their needs and has a little stylus that they love. Guess whose phone is always in the fray.  

So the sock monkey saga continued, unbeknownst to me. Apparently Leroy begged for a photo shoot.  He likes taking pictures.  Dusti had both time and my phone in her hand, so Leroy posed. Dusti is quite adept at taking pictures so she played photographer and Leroy played himself.  These pictures are the result.

 He even got to relax and listen to music with Lane.

Pleading Granddaughters and Sock Monkeys

Sometimes it just doesn't matter how strong a person is. Grandchildren know.  They just know.  They have multitudinous ways of knowing: DNA, parents, blood, love, heredity, consent, approbation, emotion and so on.  

You begin with an adamant, "no."  

You continue with this no for quite some time, eventually adding thought-filled, carefully crafted reasonable answers to "Why?" the "no."  

And you stick to the "no," albeit a weaker version.

You then move to the maybes and I-don't-knows and we'll-sees.

And at some point, the torturous pleading and begging and boohooing becomes unbearable.  You've lied, you've cried, you've blacked out, only to awaken soaked and bloody.


You relinquish in despair, ashamed of your weakness and exposure. The pleading and crying end, and you wonder why.  You'd known all along.  You've been through the pain and torture on numerous times before.  

Challenged by a grandchild, you've never beaten the gauntlet.  No one has.

In this particular case, the granddaughter and a new sock monkey, named Leroy, are happy friends.  Yes, she is 16, and apparently, she still plays with stuffed toys.

And a grandmother has lost (and won) yet another battle.  Merry Christmas to grandmothers and grandchildren everywhere.