Public shaming as punishment

What has Miss Crazy been up to since my last post?

Well this...

And since we thought talking to a 20 month old about biting was pretty lame/ineffectual, we decided to enact public shaming. Next time? Eye for an eye.
Will, get your incisors ready. (wink)

Really though - poor Hanish. Just sittin' at the table.
(At least she 'fessed up to the unfortunate victim. Now to think of it, she seemed kinda proud. And, there was the time he bit her cheek...)

Munch, munch...Easter brunch (and breakfast)

Easter Saturday's fab meal was followed by a decadent Sunday morning Sayklly's fudge egg/Betty banana bread buffet (below), and later on, an all you can eat gorge-fest at Uncle Joe and Aunt Jane's preferred Clarkston country club.

So, Easter morning... Maizey.was. in. love...

with the candy,

the sidewalk chalk eggs,

and her multiple new books.

But mostly the candy.

Grandma Betty and I "hid" (loose use of the word "hide") about 8 M&M/massamallow filled plastic eggs. After the first one was properly shaken, and opened by Dad - excitement ensued. She developed her now standard response to anything especially fun/surprising: widened eyes, enormous horizontal-type grin with chin jutting out, hands and fingers rigidly extended and shaking... (It sounds like a seizure but it's truly much cuter.)

Anyhow, it was a fun morning.

After B&B took their leave and headed to Chicago and The Book of Mormon, this crew spiffed ourselves up and rolled out to Clarkston, where we were greeted by more family, 

 and an odd washcloth-created bunny party favor.

 Not to worry though, Maizey's besties were there.

 

(Remember this guy from last year?)

And since he was bearing gifts, the Eazzer Bunny was much more well received than at prior events.

 Candy = photo op.

 And a smile.

Soon, it was time to take the party outdoors.

 For some fun and family photos.

Though apparently, with Maizey, the two don't go hand in hand (unless you are dolling out candy.)

At least Grandma Katie and Grandpa Bill gave me a grin.

Oh, and the boys too.

Brothers...

Winner, winner, Easter dinner...

I lust after the Breclaw Easter dinner menu. Dream about it. Love it. But since high school, there has been precious few years I've journeyed North to celebrate the holiday. Joyously, this year Papa and Gramma decided to make an impromptu Easter visit, bringing along all of the goodies.

What's on the menu? Well, it's a "traditional" polish Easter feast (read - there is a lot of meaning and symbolism behind everything, most of which I forget, but you can check out here) but like wigilia, we've modified the offerings a titch.

This year... Four kinds of kielbasa, ham, veal, lamb, homemade cheese (by Aunt Bobbie), beets & horseradish, hard-boiled eggs, deviled spinach, potatoes boulangee, and rolls. 

Althought the majority of the prep took place in Escanaba, we spent Saturday afternoon in the kitchen. Or rather, Grandpa spent Saturday afternoon in the kitchen. 

Grandma and Maizey helped with the kielbasa though.

 And supervised Dad grilling the lamb.

Who happily endured their critiques.

Maizey took some time out to shovel.

The deck.

Of course.

I just spent time admiring the beautiful table.

 Set by Mom/Gramma/Betty.

 The butter lamb.

 And my gorgeously died brown eggs.

 But, the highlight of the meal?

 Watching the dessert monster devour her Angel Food Cake.

 With whipped cream.

 And strawberries.

Family. 

Love 'em. (And missed 'em... Uncle Pete...)

(Even Kip got in on the action...)

Thirteen again...

back at the rodeo...

Massamallo Drop 2013

What do two loving parents do for their massamallo (marshmallow) loving child? Take her to a Marshmallow Drop, of course. Some families do egg hunts. We opted for scooping generic puffs of corn syrupy goodness off a goose-poop dotted, soggy Waterford soccer field.

What does this entail? Well, participants park, then head to the event grounds to pay the obligatory $5 per car. Then, all are herded into marshmallow drop holding pens (one for 0-5 year olds, one for 6+), to wait for a helicopter to hover overhead and drop a thousand marshmallows onto a field, guarded by intimidating volunteers. Kind of like this...

Head to the grounds...

Enter the holding pen...

Wait (and people watch)...

Intimidating volunteers... 

We were a little early though, so Maizey enjoyed her first ever hot chocolate.

Mmmmm.

So, anyhow, then the helicopter makes it's appearance and people go bananas.   

Or, if you're Maizey, screech "airaplane! airaplane!"

And the drop.

 Marshmallow heaven.

The guards set aside and there's a mad dash toward the drop site.

Of course, the five year olds didn't read the fine print, that you should only pick up ONE mallow, so I had to elbow in and clear a spot for my toddling mallow lover.

Mission accomplished.

Blissful success.

And yes. We let her eat the marshmallows she picked up off said field.

(One fellow participant referred to Will as "one of those kinds of parents." Sigh.)

On our way to the treat tables (where you exchange your presumably inedible soccer field mallow for a hygienic volunteer assembled Ziploc treat bag), Maizey spotted an old friend.

Obsession.

Pleading.

Starry-eyed from five feet.

Terrified from six inches.

Though ever since the encounter she insists "Easer bunny Maizey hug." 

In fact, she refused to leave the "easer bunny."

 Ummmmm, okay. 

Whatever you say, dear.
(Note to self: need to work on appropriate ways to exhibit enthusiasm and affection with holiday characters.)

Was it strange? Yes. Will do it next year? Probably. Did Maizey love it?

 Yes.

I mean, massamallos dropped from the sky.

What's not to love?