Mark and I returned to Portland last night after a great week and a half back in the Southlands, a magical place where the sun shines bright and fried okra flows freely. We divided the time between our two families, starting with mine in Alabama. My nephew Jack, who's 22 months at this point, is pretty much the main event at any Campbell gathering. This of course means I have very few pictures that don't involve him somehow. But seeing as to how his pictures already adorn my parents house, and probably my grandparent's houses too, I don't think anyone will mind. Once a baby comes into the fold, pictures of any adults become bottom-shelf material anyway.
I only had four days to remind Jack that his Auntie Tracy is awesome...but maybe it came across more as "Auntie Tracy is a nutcase. Run Away!"
The little dude needs a bit of practice on his Poker face. I guess the back of that eight of spades was the card he'd been waiting for...oh lucky hand!
After one bath {obviously a protein bath based on his energy-level afterward} and two animal crackers, Jack turned into a crazy man. I'm pretty sure he ran 400 laps around that round rug before it was time to pack up and leave. Cracked me up.
And that was Christmas Eve. We spent time at my parents, went to Pete and Laura's church for a quick service, and Mark and I even managed to squeeze a little hike in on a nearby trail. The weather was warm-ish, the sun was shining, and family was around. It was glorious. And then, on Christmas morning, we surprisingly woke up to this:
The first White Christmas I can remember, in Alabama oddly enough. I didn't know it snowed in Alabama.
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