We'll miss you, Grammy

Well, yesterday I found out that my Grammy Pyne (my mom's mom) passed away. She was the Grammy who kept a whole fridge full of ice cream, cakes and snacks down in the basement for when we visited every summer. The pool was always clean, there were always toys and stuff for us to play with, and she spoiled us rotten (in between yelling at us for doing stupid stuff!). She didn't throw out much, and all of her kids stashed their stuff in her basement, so that my cousin Mike and I always had the best hide and seek down there when we were little. I remember so many wonderful summers spent at her house. It's already sad that we can't recapture those kinds of summers, but sadder still that the lady who made them possible is no longer with us. She was a spunky (and sometimes overly candid!) lady who loved us so much, and we're all going to miss her alot. Here's a kiss for you, Grammy! Give Poppa a hug for us.

And when he was bad, he was VERY VERY BAD

It wasn't his first temper tantrum, but it got my goat in a way that none prior to this have gotten. Mommy's little nuclear reactor was dying to go outside all weekend. And ya know, I don't mind that, I really don't, but I had a ton of stuff to get done inside, and it was that kind of weather where it wasn't really bad, but wasn't really nice and quite frankly, just wasn't offering me the kind of outdoor experience I was interested in (ie: I didn't feel like it). We popped out a few times, and then eventually I said it was time to go in, and grab something to eat.
James didn't want to. And he let me know that. And when I stepped out to the garage to grab something from the fridge out there, he SLAMMED the door shut, and that was followed by "click".
The little stinker locked me out. On purpose!
I tried my stern voice, but seriously.. did I really have alot of leverage at that point? No, I did not. And when I told him, "James. Sterling. Woodruff. You open this door right now", the response was "I don't want to". What a cheeky little.... So I sweet-talked my way in with a ,"oh, may I come in please?" That did it. And once I was in, I did not continue to sweet-talk.
We had a time-out, and a pretty firm talking-to, all following a complete melt-down when I informed him of the time-out. I don't think he'll be doing it again anytime soon, but then, I didn't really think he'd do it in the first place.

My little "helper"

It's easy to see how helpful James is when we're backing. Those spatulas don't lick themselves clean, ya know!

Better late than never

Ok, so these pics are like a month old.. it's been a busy month! But I thought about funny they are, and wanted to share.

The first is just funny, and I laugh every time I look at it! The rest are in one of our photo albums, and it's a series of pics of James dancing! Man, does he have a good time!

Flattery will get you everywhere..

Who knew that this was a lesson learned at such a tender age? James stood on his cooking chair this weekend while I doctored up some oatmeal for him. We added butter, at which point he naturally asked, "may I have a little butter, please?" (he loves to eat butter!). Then we broke out the brown sugar, and he asked, "may I have some of that? ... please? ... pretty please? You have pretty eyes.". Yes, the boy laid down some heartfelt please, followed by FLATTERY! Of course he got some sugar.
Man, the ladies of the world are in trouble when this boy grows up.