Thanksgiving, Boogers, and Monkeys


Before I get started with today’s post, I have a major question to ask you. This question is very important and may be one of the most important questions you’ll hear within the next 5 minutes. Is it weird that I make ham on Thanksgiving instead of turkey? I’ve never been one to be known for my love of turkey, but I am known to love me some ham. This Thanksgiving, I plan on trying a new ham recipe: pineapple glazed ham. If it works out, I’ll post the recipe (if you want a honey glazed ham recipe, check out my recipe section). I’ll even go one step further, if the people we invite for Thanksgiving say that they would like to come over, I may even cook a turkey. We’ll see. Anyways, let’s get on with today’s post.

Last night, my son showed his daddy favoritism once again. I must admit, it was pretty darn cute.  My son would push the button on a skeleton dance doll that plays music, he would run to my husband smiling, he would play with my husband until the music would cut off, and then he would run to start the music again. This went on for a while, but sadly I didn’t get a video of it. Oh well.

My son also started doing something else last night involving boogers. No, he didn’t eat his boogers. He didn’t even pick his own nose. Last night, we all relaxed on the couch and watched my new favorite show, Elementary. Elementary is, in a nutshell, a modern re-telling of the life of Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes is my absolute favorite fictional character of all time. It is a pretty good show. Back to the story, we were all watching the show on the couch and my son proceeded to pick my husband’s nose. This was funny, but again, he stopped before I could record. The kid has awesome timing when it comes to that stuff.

Another addition to the life and times the Traitor, something funny happened this morning. You see, I cleaned out the refrigerator before bed last night. I took out a large box of yogurt, because it had expired, and I placed it by the garbage in the kitchen. This morning my son had to do is usual morning routine exploring the kitchen and found said yogurt box. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but my son comes out of the kitchen crying. Since the yogurt box was now in a different position and place, it must have fallen on him. Then I proceeded to hold him and rock him to calm him down. Once he stopped crying, we walked into the kitchen with him holding onto one of my fingers. We went to the box and I said, “Tell that mean old box to stop hurting you. BAM!” I kicked the box. In an awesome turn of events, my son kicked the box, too. This went on for a little bit. As funny as that was, I may not need to teach him to kick anymore boxes.

Last but not least, this is a quick little paragraph about my son’s Hallowe’en costume.  He was a little monkey, and sadly he was sick and couldn’t go trick-or-treating. I have to say, he was a pretty flippin’ cute monkey. See below.


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