Father Christmas is better than Santa.

Our life is full with visiting family and new baby chicks.

(Two of my favorite things.)

We moved our older chicks into their new coop and they love it.

We love it too!

Here are the babies.

Be still my mother hen heart.

I love them.

(Eight!)

Look at that fuzz!

I like chickens.

Todd says these are expensive eggs-- I say it is Summer Camp.

We named our home- finally.

University of Moss- Tully or, U of M- Tully.

This is Poultry 101.

:)

It is really fun having family visit (although I'm certain we are an overwhelming bunch).

(So excited to pick Aunt Sandra up from the train station!)

Meeting the chicks.

Aunt Sue with Ben.

My dad with his sisters.  

(He can't remember the last time he was clean shaven.)

I think I look like these aunts.

My Aunt Sandra lives in England and was telling my kids about her kids.  Her youngest son asked for a dog from Father Christmas and was given a letter leading him to a shelter dog named Noel.

As I was putting the kids to bed, Leah got upset.  She was saying "It's not fair" and "you lied to me."  I had to stop and really listen to her to figure out what she was saying.  The jist of her complaint was that Todd and I had lied because we told her Santa doesn't bring pets.  She said a Father Christmas brought THEM a dog!  Haha.

I told her the truth, "Father Christmas is better than Santa."

Perhaps next year Santa may have to up his game (in the interest of foreign relations).  Do you think a donkey can fit in his bag?  Maybe only a miniature one.

Oh my.

Happy Monday!

Life is good!