I live with a bunch of goofballs

The other day I realized Rayna's feet were freezing, so I told her to go upstairs and get some slippers on. A few minutes later I heard her trip coming down the stairs and mutter, "These are just too big!" I couldn't figure out why they were bothering her so much... until I she came around the corner in these:(If you can't tell, they're silver, high-heeled, not warm at all, dress-up shoes. I guess the girl knows what kind of "slippers" she belongs in.)

Colsen and Miles are up to their old/new tricks these days. I came into the kitchen a couple days ago to find them zooming back and forth with this -- the bottom rack from the dishwasher:

And speaking of Colsen, when I called him a "little man" this week he shot back, "No, I just turned 3! I'm a BIG man." Very cute. But some of his not-so-cute comments have been at around 4:50 pm the last two evenings. On Wednesday, he asked, "What's for dinner that I'm not gonna like?" and on Thursday he asked, "What's for dinner that's gross?" He's not a real big fan of the dinner meal, I'm realizing.

On a more upsetting note, our treasured olive wood Nativity figurine of Joseph somehow lost his head -- literally. Apparently his journeying to Bethlehem took a rough turn somewhere between the dining room and living room.

Strider's comment: Look, Mom, now it's John the Baptist!

We put the poor, broken Joseph on Pete's desk for him to glue, and, of course, within 12 hours the head was missing. As I listened to Pete interrogating the kids, I wondered: Are we the only family in America in which the dad is now saying, "You guys! Where did you put Joseph's head?! No one is going to bed until we find his head!"