Looking back at Christmases past, I found this shot of the girl, age five, complete with bedhead and Christmas morning shock at the delightful gifts under the tree. That was a year of a whole lotta Barbie stuff, if I remember correctly.
At six, she was all about Polly Pocket. Boy do I not miss the days of those tiny plastic shoes. Believe it or not, she still has some of these in a box somewhere, and has dragged them out for younger friends to play with.
P.S. — the dog still shows her the same amount of respect.
Same bedhead, different year. For some reason we have no photos on file of Christmas 2003 so we’re skipping on to the year the girl was eight. See the socks she’s pulling out of her stocking? “Too Spoiled” they say. Yep, that pretty much sums up the girl that year.
Just so you don’t think I’m picking on her, I’m interrupting this post of the girl to share this photo of me, obviously having a really grand time on Christmas day.
Note to self: how many red cardigans have you owned over the years? Seriously? Could you remember NOT to wear a red sweater in the holiday photos this year?
Oh and you might smile a bit.
This must have been a year when I received kitchen appliances. Or exercise equipment.
The Christmas the girl was nine was a tough one. We had moved out of our house and into my in-laws, preparing to make the HUGE move across the country to Virginia just after the holiday. She and her brother were troopers, as happy to celebrate the holiday at the grandparents’ house as anywhere else. She made out like a bandit as usual, with tons of American Girl merchandise. And a suitcase. We were on our way to our new home just days after this shot.
The girl at 10.
She’s always been a ball of goof, that one.
Like her mother, I suppose.
It’s funny to look at this picture and think, wow, two years sure changes a kid a lot. Here she looks 10. Today? 20.
Well, maybe not 20. They just don’t stay little for very long, do they?