Something About Milo

We had a cat named Milo, who we gave to Edwin's mother for safe-keeping while we went overseas. Although we love Milo deeply, he has gotten accustomed to living in Edwina's (that's Edwin's mom's name) woods, so moving back in with us is not a good option. DeLaynie is especially fond of Miloshka (not his full name, but after reading a Russian novel, I always called him that because it's how they alter names to show affection; it kind of stuck), and the second thing she said when we pulled in to Edwina's for Independence Day was, "Where's Milo?" (The first was "'Wina!" which is what she calls Granny 'Wina.)

She begged us to go outside and look for him. We finally relented, and she was thrilled to be in the great outdoors. The heat didn't seem to bother her too much.

"Milo! Where are you?"

"There he is!!!" (Three exclamation points are necassary, I assure you.)

Reunited and it feels so good.

Ah, young love.

Yes, DeLaynie loves Milo. We've got to get these girls a pet, once we figure out where in the country we're going.

Just to prove that I'm an equal opportunity blogger, here is a picture of Ella.

I only got this one and one of her back before she managed to have a diaper disaster and get her dress dirty. That's actually DeLaynie's second outfit of the day as well. A similar issue led to the demise of her dress, but I had an equally festive outfit for her because of potty considerations. I had such high hopes for Ella, all squashed. Oh well! Better luck next year?