-- Geesh, people, all you want to talk about is the jeans. Well, here you go. Before you wander over to Gap.com, make sure to note the fine detailing of the most perfect jeans ever made. Those little pocket flaps? Look good on all sizes of booty. The little bit of stretch? Not so much that the things are saggy and gross at the end of the day. Low rise? Yes, but not so much that you'll be competing with the plumber or the Best Crack Award. The dark color? Flattering! If anybody wants to throw a pair under the tree for little ol' me, make them a size 8 long.

-- I've officially decided that you haven't lived until you've gone Christmas shopping at the mall with a feisty Toddler. The adrenaline rush you get from the brisk pace, constant corralling, and fast decision-making kicks butt.

-- There will be no pictures of Alexis with Santa this year. When I asked, she enthusiastically said she wanted to see Santa. By that, she meant that she wanted to point from afar, smile, giggle, etc. But no way was she ever going to go past the five yard line. When I tried to walk in for the touchdown, her Daddy heard her screams all the way from the Steelers store. I found the whole thing to be exactly what I expected. The photographer seemed a bit weirded out by it, however. I guess some parents must force the issue. That's way too much drama for my liking.

-- A few of our nieces are big fans of Bratz. I personally despise the things and have permanently banned the dolls and all items bearing their images from our house. My dear husband didn't understand my vehement stance about them and thought we should consider some as Christmas gifts for the nieces. So we stopped to look at them in Target. His response when he saw them? "They're all dressed like hookers." Yes, honey, that is one of the reasons I don't like them. There's also this whole attitude thing that I just can't get in to. Ain't nobody getting any Bratz now.

-- One of these two is really enjoying the hugfest. The other one, notsomuch: