Big announcement: we decided to go ahead and have a third kid, but we told the stork to make it a four-year-old blonde girl this time. And last Friday night that stork, he delivered. Doesn't she look right at home, squeezed into our tiny house with her new siblings?
We're naming her "Josephine Hieronymus" in honor of each of our favorite baby names that were cruelly, summarily dismissed by the other parent. (We'll call her "Jo-Ho" for short.)
This is actually Ellie's best friend, Chloe, and Chloe was at our home late Friday night for the girls' first-ever slumber party. We had pizza and popcorn and rented a few premium, direct-to-DVD, Disney sequel craptaculars, just for the occasion.
The girls camped out on the couch in sleeping bags and a pile of quilts and, after lights out, they squirmed and giggled and occasionally hoarsely whispered Chihuahua! to make the other laugh maniacally because Chihuahua! = pure preschooler hilarity.
Even with all the excitement, they were both snoring by ten o'clock, and slept clean through to the next morning when they awoke to ask A) "Can Byron make us pancakes?" and B) "This is still a party, right?"
(Do you remember your first slumber party? Best/worst slumber party memory? I'm hoping someone can pull out a good hand-in-a-bowl-of-warm-water story.)