Two little monkeys, jumping on the bed

Don't worry, no one fell off and bumped her head.
Iris and Leda at Thanksgiving:

Fuzzhead

It's hard to capture in pictures the fine, fluffy, yet wiry quality of Iris's hair. It's easily molded by naps, hats, and others of life's adventures into strange peaks and valleys.





Note the beginnings of a really fine rat's-nest in the back. Also note the utensils, which Iris now insists on using BY HERSELF.

Baths, a historical perspective

Christmas 2006, at Auntie Sue's:



Thanksgiving 2007, at Mimi's:


And demonstrating the fake cough Mimi taught her:

First snow

In Michigan, at Thansgiving:

Nerds beget nerds

More in the "Iris reading" series.






And while not technically reading, here she is climbing into her box of books:

Possibly making the sign for "eat," possibly about to tell someone to kiss off. At any rate, note the delightful hoodie, knit by Audra and perfect for this slightly cool fall.

Cat's in the cradle... and the stroller... and the high chair...

Once upon a time Mabel was just a mere ball of fluff.



But early on, we started to notice a colonizing streak.



And with the arrival of baby gear in the house, Mabel truly turned imperialistic, monopolizing anything that belonged to the baby.

The stand-alone high chair:


The high chair that attaches to the table:


Ian:


The nursing pillow (with help from Henry):


The crib:


The bumbo:


The changing table:


The jogging stroller:


The regular stroller:


The playmat:


The stroller, again:


Even pictures of Iris:


As the above pictures demonstrate, Henry is not entirely without blame, although he's really more of a follower. And he's the only one who ever slept in the actual cradle.

Pumpkinhead

Iris in her birthday hat (by Grandma Jo) and suit (her own design).

Dance, Mabel, dance!

When it comes to toys, Iris and the cats are on the same page. Give them a bell, some feathers perhaps, and they're happy. This stick with feathers attached has long been Henry and Mabel's favorite, and Iris likes it too -- as a means of entertaining the cats at some points, and herself at others. (On this and several other counts, she's in some liminal zone between the pets and the humans.)

(Really, Iris does wear pants when it's appropriate. It's not like she's always half-naked.)

A typical night

It starts innocently enough with a book:




But wait, there's a ball and a bag of biscotti:



Of course, oral hygiene is important (but don't forget that biscotti):


And the final escape:

Iris reading

At the request of my father, some pictures of Iris reading: