Cabol said we should write down our New Year’s Resolution, I guess so then when we don’t follow through we’ll feel more guilty.

Kenny resolves to do more origami every day. Then he will become an Origami Master and live in a little temple in Japan and catch bees with chopsticks.

Anya resolves to learn to crawl. Then she can find all the hidden bunny poops to eat with her pickle skins.

Andy (me) resolves to go for a walk whenever he feels the need to be snarky to Cabol. I will be ready for a marathon come February.

Cabol resolves not to eat donuts every day, and not to give Anya or me to the gypsies.

As Supreme Ruler of Absolutely Nothing At All, I do hereby decree that henceforth all holiday cookies be given in dough format.

Why? Because apparently 98% of the world’s population prefers raw cookie dough to actual baked cookies.

This morning I delivered to my coworkers the 40 dozen or so frozen chocolate chip cookie dough balls I’ve spent the last two weeks making. The idea was that everyone gets overwhelmed with treats this time of year, so this way people could bake up some cookies later when things weren’t so crazy and they had a hankering for hot cookies. (Also, it saved me having to bake the cookies myself, which I admit was a really big factor in the dough decision.)

From what people have been saying to me, I think most of those dough balls will never make it anywhere near an oven. These people are cookie dough freaks. “YAY! You gave me cookie dough! I love cookie dough more than anything in the world! Cookie dough rocks!”

It truly and honestly never occurred to me that people would think I was giving them dough. So, if it’s the thought that counts, and the thought was “bake cookies later when holiday treats run out,” and everyone thought the thought was “oooooo dough,” then were the gifts failures because the thought I had wasn’t the thought they thought I had?

Bonus Question of the Day: Did you know that avocado stains (fabric, not babies)?

It’s getting hard to get Anya’s monthly photo taken. I want to be able to see out the window, so I can track the seasons as she grows, but it’s dark when we leave in the morning and dark when we get home at night. I’ve been waiting until the weekend to get a photo and post this, but why wait? I’ll just update the post this weekend with a photo!

What was Anya up to this last month? She has:

+ Learned that it’s funny the way Mommy goes “AIE!” when baby sticks her hands in her diaper area during changing time.
+ Also learned that it’s fun to undo the velcro fasteners on her diapers. (Possible coming attractions for next month: Anya learns to undo her diaper and then stick her hands in her poo!)
+ Perfected sitting. Mostly. Except for when she topples over. At random? On purpose? I do not know.
+ Graduated from baths to showers.
+ Charmed every living being on the planet with her Smooshy Face of Ultimate Cuteness.
+ Tasted soy milk, napkin, tissue paper, and ribbon and consumed yams and pancake.
+ Toyed with the idea of crawling. She’ll tolerate being on her tummy now, which makes practicing crawling easier. She needs to work on her upper body strength, though. I’m thinking of getting her the “Arms of Steel” video.
+ Fed herself her bottle.
+ Hung out in a highchair at Hardee’s (and munched on said napkin previously hitherto mentioned).
+ Rode her Daddy’s childhood rocking horse.
+ Opened her first Christmas present (and munched on said tissue paper and ribbon previously hitherto mentioned).

Edited to Add:

+ Explored a mall and learned all about clearance items.
+ Been tailed in an antique store as a possible shoplifter.
+ Had people fly in from across the country and across the planet just to see her. (Not really just to see her, but don’t tell her that since it will be bad for her ego.)

Question: How do you know your mommy really loves you?

Answer: You ask her to brush the flour off the gingerbread cookies you made for the office holiday party, and she does.

Question: How do you know your baby really loves you?

Answer: When she sees you, she makes a squooshy face.