Cookie Cutter

There's a joke that talks about a blonde woman going to the doctor's, and when he tells her she's pregnant, she responds, "Is it mine?" Well, if I had any doubts about these two cupcakes I'm currently baking, it was removed by a couple headshots they got at the hospital today.

Baby A (the donor, if you're wondering) was wiggly and uncooperative, so we couldn't get an awesome shot, but you get the gist. I almost gasped though when I saw the pictures of Baby B:

I swear I already had that baby. See?

That mouth! That nose! They're my nose and mouth. I've always been partial to them. I hope the three other people that now also have them like em' too. They're apparently dominant traits.

Inevitable

Paige has been really into scissors lately. It keeps her occupied for amazing amounts of time (under close supervision obviously), but since we didn't own any safety scissors, it's not an activity we've done at home until yesterday. Grandma brought Paige a pair of cute safety scissors when she came to watch her, and they'll been her favorite toy since.

They kept her happily entertained for almost two hours today until I started to make lunch, and Paige realized she was hungry enough to investigate. When she started eating all the shredded cheese and playing with the "cheese house," I told her that she needed to get down and wait for lunch to be ready. She started to cry, then ran over to the desk, grabbed her new safety scissors, and lopped off a blonde lock before I could move.

A talking-to, a tantrum, and a time-out later, we no longer own a pair of safety scissors. 

In reality, the cut wasn't too bad, it was hair instead of a book or a picture, and it's something that every child does at least once. But I expected Paige to cut her hair out of curiosity rather than rebellion. I'm a little puzzled as to how to react to rebellion and angst. I guess that's something you just have to work out as you go.