Jesus is my best friend, who's yours?

We used to have a bumper sticker that said that on the table in the foyer (or narthex, if you will) at our church.  I always thought it sounded a little haughty. 

Here is Malcolm showing off his gums.  

Looks like he's got a few teethers waiting to bust

 through.  This dry weather seems to make his fair skin a little blotchy.  Oh, he's such a cutie.  He likes to babble now.  If I knew how to be a little bit fancier, I'd record him and put an audio clip of it on my blog because it is so cute.  It sounds like this:  abbubdubbumammmauua(burp).

So, the other day on George (the Curious one), they were talking about creepy noises.  This was not a good idea.  At bedtime, the children were obsessing about creepy noises.  When they are scared, we remind them to ask Jesus to come.  So Henry is obsessing about creepy noises outside the window, and Ceci says, "Don't worry, Henry, my friend Jesus is on his way." 

Malcolm gave me his cold, and it is a nasty one.  I am less than patient with sickness, especially my own.  I think that comes from growing up with an ER doctor for a father.  You are never sick enough for an ER doctor.  If I whined, he always asked me if I wanted a shot in the butt.  (His words.) Like that somehow cured the flu/ stomach virus/ broken foot.  

Patrick and I are sarcastically watching the SAG awards.  Hollywood is ridiculous.  

Don't get me wrong, I'd still like to be friends with Brangelina.