I told my grandpa that I shot a gun for the first time, and that it was a pellet gun. You would not believe the look of disgust he shot me. Apparently pellet guns are not "real" guns.
I spend so much time prying my hair from his little iron claws.
Sorry, this is the best shot I got of both--Noah happened to have scary eyes.
Dad using his cutting tool of choice--a 30 year old electric knife.
Grandma was loving life.
We had a great Thanksgiving in Boise, which is saying a lot because we almost turned around and came back home when we encountered 10 car pileups and ice sheets on the way. I was a mountain pass away from a complete meltdown. But we were safe and learned that familiarity with tire cables before you leave is worth the effort (we learned that lesson by not making that effort, of course). We ate so much, ran a leisurely family 5k, and saw Harry Potter (so good!). Almost two months younger, Noah has already taken the lead in baby growth against our little baby borne of average-to-smaller-than-average genes. We even came home with some sugar cookies, and beef. My parents bought half a cow, and when the boxes arrived--well, let's just say anyone is always welcome at the Naylor house for some grillin'. And I will actually use beef to make something for the first time in our married life... (it's not that I don't like meat, I just don't like raw meat. It's easier for me to avoid it entirely.)