Fortunately, I do not have to practice restraint with family. Doesn't a warm, toasted bagel with a slathering of cream cheese always seem so much more delicious when someone else fixes it? I think so. Likewise with a simple ham sandwich. Don't get me wrong, I could easily slap some meat and cheese between two slices of bread and call it a day, but oh how my mouth waters when I see Chels making one. Chels even knows to make two of whatever she's making to avoid the inevitable sharing she will be obligated to do if she only makes one. Smart girl.
I tell you all of this because B is sitting two feet from me having fixed the most splendid smelling bowl of popcorn that has ever touched my nostrils. And all I can think about is eating it. If I ask for a handful, I will surely ask for seconds. I'm like the mouse in If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. If I get seconds, I will take too much and then end up eating three-fourths of B's snack without ever really meaning to do so. Sigh.
Let it be known that the pediatrician gave me a good scolding today for getting up in the middle of the night with Baby B. Her question was innocent enough...
Doc: How's he sleeping?
Me: Well, he's started this thing where he wants to get up and play. At 2:30am.
Doc: What do you do?
Me: I get up with him. (Duh!)
Doc: QUIT DOING THAT! You're never going to get sleep. He's six months old now. He's not crying because he's hungry or lonely. He's crying because he knows you will come running. I'm going to tell you something, you're going to be saying 'no' to this kid a lot for the next 21 years - get used to it. So start saying no now - no I will not get you out of bed at 2:30am. If it's dark outside, he should be sleeping.......
And then she began to sound a lot like the teacher from Charlie Brown and I did a bunch of head nodding, and I think I finally agreed to let him cry it out. Could you imagine the beating I would have received if I told her he still slept in his pack-n-play NEXT TO MY BED. Thank goodness her doc-dar didn't let her know that he's been sleeping in my bed at some point during the night every night since he's been born too. Oh, and I do love this doctor and her straight-forwardness.
So, as of tonight, Baby B is officially sleeping in his crib. And we did let him cry it out. For everyone's sake, it only lasted about 20 minutes. And I did go up to put his paci in once and tell him that I love him to infinity and beyond and back infinity times. I'm not even allowed to get up in the middle of the night to nurse him. This is going to be hard.
Lest I forget to tell you that Baby B is in the 92nd percentile for height (27 in.) and weight (20.8 lbs). That's my boy.
In other news, he tried bananas today which resulted in a bitter beer face. See below.
Baby B wasn't satisfied with cereal alone, though. Later on in the day, as I attempted to eat tortilla chips while I was feeding him (a real crumby idea, if you know what I mean), Baby B let it be known that he, too, should be allowed to munch on my snack. He was literally bending backwards over the Boppy trying to reach them. 
After convincing him that actual teeth were required to eat chips, he opted for a healthier, more organic choice. Why eat tortilla chips when sweet little baby feet are equally as delicious and readily available at the stretch of leg? (Seriously, I think babies invented yoga.)
Christmas was a delicious assortment of pumpkin roll, cinnamon oatmeal cookies, Honeybaked Ham, and poppy seed bread, combined with a oodles of crumpled wrapping paper and time spent with family. Naturally, Baby B enjoyed crumpling wrapping paper far more than the diverse array of sprinkled confections that I enjoyed.
I don't know if I ever disclosed my theory to you, Internet, but besides the fact that six months of exclusive breastfeeding is recommended by the APA, I also continued to nurse right on through Baby B's six month because it meant that I could selfishly indulge in the many holiday treats that present themselves during the month of December. I mean, he is the best diet that ever happened to me. How else can you enjoy homemade, chocolate-drizzled marshmallows and not gain an ounce? I'll tell you how: dedicate yourself to the nourishment of another human being. I'm sorry if you get sick of my relentless blogging about breastfeeding, but I just couldn't be happier with its results.
I guess I will talk about the First Annual K Girl Christmas Cookie Decorating Get-Together (which will be known as FAKGCCDGT from this point forward). I had Chels, Soph, and Aubz over on Monday, and we slice-n-baked our way to a sugar high. After creating two-dozen or so cookies, the question remained: what will we do with these? Too embarrassed to take them to my mom's (the cookie/cake baker connoisseur for those of you who don't know her), we chose to let them sit on my counter for the past 48 hours so that I B and I can consume an inordinate amount of Christmas calories before the 25th. And so that we will have something to eat while the cupboard is bare. I look forward to future AKGCCDGT's in the future. A good time was had by all. 
Today we are off to the K's to celebrate at 4pm - complete with dinner, Christmas eve service, and gift exchanging. My dad will read the story from the Bible to the grandkids, along with 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (just as he's done for the past 20 or so years), and my sisters and I will mouth the words as he reads. He usually becomes annoyed and threatens to quit reading and send us all to bed (this is a solid K tradition). Too bad we're all 20+ now and he can't get away with this. We'll have to pass our mimickry along to Soph, Baby B, and Sutton so that they can drive him crazy in a few years.
And he was totally right. I could totally use a knit pair. (Definitely not a 
