“Twinkle, Twinkle litte star…”
“If you don’t go to bed I’m going to lose my mind.” Or something like that. Two nights ago we were in Montana, last night we were in Huntsville, and tonight we are at my parent’s lake house on Smith Lake. She’s a bit confusticated.
Confusticate. That’s my new word. The oldest minion gave me The Hobbit for Christmas and this word was in it:
According to the dictionary it’s actually not even a real word. Sooo…awkward. Way to go, Tolkien.
Speaking of awkward…
I like to call this picture: ‘Yellow Snow’. Or maybe ‘When You Gotta Go, You Gotta Go.’ I don’t know. All I know is that three layers of long underwear plus ski pants is a lot for a seven year old. In his defense, there was an outhouse three steps away but a snow drift was blocking it.
Oooh! Speaking of confusticating:
Apparently in Whitefish, Montana businesses sometimes have to close to do full moon ceremonies. Crazy, huh. I hope fry bread was involved. Montanans make some great fry bread.
Fry Bread…
Not confusticating. Not confusticating at all. In fact, it’s flipping brilliant.
Unlike her rendition of Twinkle Twinkle.