Yep, 7 months old and I guess it's high time Zoey started thinking about what to be when she grows up. (I'm modeling this blog after Irete's Retreat, referenced in a previous post. But I don't have quite the camera she has.) See the photos... Should I be a chef? (No mom, these are underwear not a hat!) But I'm already trying to be a sommelier so I'll go with it? Or a French Horn player since I already play piano? Or a gymnast to combine with my swimming lessons, and I could be a high diver? Party/sorority girl? Actress specializing in on-screen kisses with hunky leading men named Charles? So many possibilities...



And the newest addition to our home decor is the "Super Prison Yard". She doesn't like being in there unless I'm doin' time with her. She's no dummy!

OK, so all you Moms and Dad's need to post comments on this post. Here's the issue:

To cry it out or not to cry it out? That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the cries and wails of and outraged babe or to take her up in thine arms against the advice of those who have tread these waters ere mine self. And by opposing them, perchance I will die from lack of sleep. No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand unatural torment that a childs voice at night can render upon that ear belonging to the flesh that she is heir to, 'tis a death devoutly not to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For when was the last time I slept enough to actually dream...I could go on as Hamlet did.