Buddy the crabby elf

I meant to blog yesterday, but I was up until after 1 wrapping presents, and you want to know the punchline?  Wait for it... I HAVE MORE TO WRAP TONIGHT.  Just the stragglers that were delivered today (Amazon FTW), but still.

Tonight in the next chapter of I-am-becoming-a-cliche-and-stressing-about-the-small-stuff-to-the-point-of-screwing-up-my-holiday-mood, I will be making cinnamon rolls and monster cookie dough and possibly fudge and drying the dog pee laundry I just did (towels that I used to soak up the river pf pee I stepped in on my way into Dorothy's room) so I can wash the matching Christmas jammies our Elf on the Shelf will deliver tomorrow.  We have late-night plans and will come home just in time to throw our exhausted selves in bed after laying out magical special presents and setting the table with Christmas Spode, hence the make-ahead rolls tonight.  I think I can still make the glaze on Christmas morning while Ben is wading through mounds of discarded wrapping paper and the kids are eating Fannie May suckers.  GAH.

Speaking of magical childhood memories, we held our annual cookie massacre yesterday:

Jack is so floury.  Dorothy and Cooper are so intent on their cookie making.

 Dorothy has been playing with gingerbread play doh and cookie cutters at school all month.  She's a pro.

 We dressed up fancy and di our hair and makeup for the occasion.  Obvi.

 Cooper only made zombie cookies.  He gets that from his father who always makes t-rexes among all the stars, trees, bells, stockings, wreaths, and snowmen.

 The aftermath of Dorothy's frosting area:

What if this is my last Christmas with a baby in footie pajamas?  If it is, I took lots and lots of pictures.