Today officially marks one whole trip around the sun where this bloggy space has been a thing. And you totally care.
You might be spending this weekend with your family, which means you’re reading this a few days from now, after the Christmas and New Year’s rush has died down, or you’re on your thirteenth glass of eggnog (out of the adult punch bowl) and taking a break from quality time to surf the internet while hiding in your coat closet and trying not to ralph on Aunt Bernice’s peacoat. In either case, hope your holidays are wonderful.
This time last year, we were just telling our families about their impending doom grandparenthood.
The release date got moved up to a weekend with a better box office draw.
Now we have a little man who’s about ready to get a job and start contributing to our fast-paced and irresponsible lifestyle.
We don’t call him Squatch for nothin.
In between I wrote a lot of pointless garbage, moved, and “met” some cool folks in the Bloggy-verse. Some I’ve struck up conversations, shared ideas, or arranged marriages with. Others I’ve stalked from afar and have yet to engage in a discourse. But it shall happen. I haven’t been able to take this bloggy thing as seriously as some, but it’s still a thing. And now it’s a year-old thing.
Squatch has made some new friends, too. He’s got a bat:
Totally not creepy.
And Captain America:
Thanks, DorkDaddy!
And his best buddy Jack:
Photo stolen from our friend Val.
So what’s going to come in the year ahead? Well, I’ll probably talk about planning a one-year-old’s birthday with class and dignity (note to self: jungle animal petting zoo—this has to be a thing). There will be teeth and varying degrees of mobility, and likely some sort of talking splashed in there by this time next year. You can keep up-to-date with all of it on the “& Squatch Makes Three Special Fun-Time Facebook Page” (like it, Hipster) or through the Squatchiest feed on the Twitter. In fact, please do. I have few followers and even fewer page likes. It’s pathetic. Don’t let me be that kid. Come sit at my internet lunch table.
As a preemptive token of our gratitude, Squatch wanted me to pass along a holiday message:
Doesn’t that just give you the warm fuzzies deep down in your gut?
Thanks for a good year, blog friends. Here’s hoping for another.
I hear you, Squatch. Huyghebaerts don’t joke about pie either. Pie, my dear tiny friend, is paramount.
That’s the rule of law around this house, too. Kid’s getting raised up right.
Thank you for my wonderful gift of a Squatch film. I can rest content until after the holiday now.
I figured you’d enjoy that. Merry Christmas.
I’m nominating the wardrobe/costume department in that video for an Oscar.
-DD
He usually only gets to wear that when Daddy dresses him. And always, it’s an honor just to be nominated. If it weren’t for Lincoln, I think I might have a shot, too.
Squatch is stylin’ … enjoy all fun ahead as he starts running (because he’ll skip right from a wobbly steps to full-blown running) and talking.
He got a baby gate for Christmas, so we’re already infinitely more prepared than we were last week. Now I just need to get in shape for the inevitable hours of chasing him all over the place.
Meh. The chasing gets you in shape.
Good to know. I can cancel that marathon registration then.