First REAL Haircut

Harrison had his first real haircut this week. By "real," I mean that we paid a professional to do it. I mean, I think Andrea and I trimmed his rat tail that was growing just before his first birthday party. And Nana had trimmed his hair a couple of times. But this was the first "real" one. Let me tell you, it was totally worth it. His hair is nice and shaped (which Harrison frequently reminds me that he looks nice). I didn't realize how badly he needed a haircut until we actually got him one. It's sort of like, I don't realize how terribly I need highlights until I get them done. And Harrison did terrific. I was a little nervous, but thankfully, I went to Devon's Salon, and they were so wonderful to him there. They had lollipops on hand to keep him occupied during his haircut. Of course, I bribed him with a Chick-fil-A Peach Milkshake. So, I'm not sure exactly what worked, but something did and that is all that matters.

Moving...

First of all, it has been forever and a day since I have posted. I don't really even have time for it now, but I am going to find a way. Saturday, a week ago, we moved into our new house. We have finally made a permanent home. And I'm not interested in moving for a very long time. And when that day does come, I'm selling all of my stuff with the house. I think I am going to enter into a whole new level of purge. I don't even consider myself much of a saver. Sometimes, I throw away too much. Anyway, I'm tired of this business.
Admist all of our moving, Harrison has kept us thoroughly entertained. We have had to resort to letting him sit in our cars and pretend to drive while we unpack. We can keep him locked in there and he is happy as he could be.
As soon as we get settled, we'll take the "family in front of the new house" picture. I know everyone is just chomping at the bit to see that. Sarcasm.

Where do you want to go?

Recently, Harrison has been pretending to rock a baby. I'm not sure where he got the idea of it, but I guess when he sees a baby, someone is often rocking it. The other day at lunch, we had a "conversation" about babies:
Harrison: "Baby, mine" while doing the rocking motion with his hands.
Me: "That's cute Harrison. Do you want a baby?"
Harrison: "Momma, baby."
Me: "No, mommy doesn't have a baby, but we can pray, that maybe one day, God will give mommy another baby."
Harrison looked like he was deep in thought
Harrison: "Baby...Wal-Mart?" he said with his finger in the air like he had a grand idea.
I almost fell out of my chair laughing so hard. Clearly, we have a little to teach him about where babies come from. It does alarm me that he seems to think if we could go just get a baby, that we might do so at Wal-Mart. I always would make fun of my friends who were bad drivers, that they got their license from Wal-Mart. A baby from Wal-Mart? That sort of makes me cringe. We desperately need a Target close by if my son is that acquainted with Wal-Mart.

Seersucker and Pastels...um, um, good

There aren't many traditions in life that I am a stickler for. I'm not a pack-rat, physically or emotionally, so traditions aren't something that I necessarily have to be a part of every year. Plus, Adam and I are always thinking about how we can change things up from the norm, so that makes traditions hard for us to come by. It doesn't mean that I don't like them; I just forget about them. However, one thing that I do love, is Easter. Obviously, above everything I love what Easter means. I love that this is the day that we get to celebrate our Savior coming back for us. I also love the tradition of the Easter dress. Each year, I want to buy one (I don't, but I'd like to). And that is because, for many years, my mom did buy us an Easter outfit. Now, I get to do that for my son. And boy, am I glad that I am back in the South for this. Last year in Denver, I was alarmed by the lack of pastels and dresses on Easter. It was business as usual as church (jeans for 90% of the congregation). Don't be misled, I'm all for casual church. But, I do love Easter church outfits. I know...silly, silly; it doesn't mean anything. I recognize it. But look how cute my boys are!

Incredible Hulk Green

We decided to take a familial stab at dyeing eggs. First off, I haven't ever hard-boiled eggs, so I had to call my mom twice to figure out how to do it. I know...HARD BOIL THEM. Seems simple enough. And it was. Here are things that a two year old doesn't understand when dyeing eggs:
1. Gentle hands when dropping eggs in the dye...we had a few crack as Harrison "placed" them into the dye
2. Patience when waiting for the color to develop
3. Cups of dye aren't for drinking (he thought it was juice, which we never let him have)
4. Mommy is going to be embarrassed when you are certain shades of green for days

Eggstravaganza

So excited to find eggs; this was the face that he gave for each one he found
As soon as he entered the grassy area, this girl wanted to take his basket.
He was so concerned; I told him to get used to it.

We have definitely outdone ourselves with all things eggs this past week. Harrison had a Easter egg hunt at school. We skipped the church egg hunt on Saturday morning to go to the beach (I know, pray for our salvation later). But we did go to one over at Litchfield Plantation later that afternoon. Harrison found a silver egg (that had money in it), but later, it mysteriously disappeared from his basket. I'm sure the big kids had something to do with that. Harrison is going to have to step-up his competitive edge if he plans on getting more eggs next year. He would see an egg, gasp, point to it to show me, and then turn around, only to find another child running away with the oval prize he had his eyes on.