Pigtails and Underwear

Emma has GREAT hair.  It frequently stands on end in all of its wispy glory, and when you catch a glimpse of it glowing in a ray of sun you can't help but smile.  It's just that good.  But lately the front is getting too long to stand up, so instead it falls forward and into her eyes.  Not being a fan of bangs (a.k.a. fringe) on little girls because they tend to start mid-head and then look funny when the little girl tries to grow them out years down the line, I am trying not to cut her hair.  Barrettes slip right out of her silky locks, and she is not a big fan of hats.  So we have moved on to pigtails, the ultimate in little girly hairdos.  She wears them well.  They make her look older, more like the eleven months of age that she reached yesterday.  My baby isn't so much a baby anymore, already. 
Harrison is making great strides in the potty training department.  He is wearing underwear for part of each day, has few accidents when not overly distracted, and seems, in general, to like the idea of wearing "big boy pants".  Only problem is that his tiny hiney won't keep his shorts up without the help of a bulky diaper, so we need to come up with some belts, post haste.  I personally hate potty training, and now understand why so many parents opt to train later and later.  It's not fun to spend all day asking if wee one needs to go, it's not fun cleaning up accidents, and it's decidedly not fun trying to keep track of how long it has been since the last trip to the toilet.  But we trudge on, we persevere, knowing that the ability to use a toilet is a gift we give, both to ourselves and to our child.  But it still isn't any fun.  Let's hope this is the last box of Harry's diapers, shall we?