We're a two holiday household -- celebrating Hanukkah and Christmas. This year both seemed to be more about sparkling lights and the enthusiasm of parents and grandparents than Charlotte; but that only adds to the excitement for coming years. Plus, I've discovered that spoiling daughters is apparently a recessive trait in all men -- I own the Old Navy baby section.

In the picture above, our daughter is the embodiment of a scrappy Londoner -- she is indeed quite 'Appy. With a starter's collection of Dr. Seuss and a set of stackable cups, what more could a baby that is grabby and stare-y need from Christmas?

As for below? Our daughter is a fluffy pink Yeti courtesy of her Uncle Sam and Aunt Tai. This was easily one of the stars of Christmas as it introduced a new level of adorableness, heretofore unseen in Kansas City. So if you are ever feeling uncute, I suggest a full-body pink fleece snow outfit.

I have never been a fan of going to the barber. I, like Sampson, cried when my locks were first cut and although I've managed to avoid tears for the past several years, I often delay haircuts well past the expiration date of my hairdo.

As such, Charlotte's first official haircut was to be at home. Based on an incident in our North End apartment in Boston which resulted in my seeking immediate, professional assistance after the first pass with the clippers, Kate was out of the running to play amateur barber. The key with cutting a baby's hair is to approach them as you might an animal in the wild -- slowly and with no sign of the scissors that you intend to use.

We cut approximately three dozen hairs between the two of us -- basically eliminating the rat tail that threatened to grow out of Charlotte's lady mullet. But other than that, this was not much of a haircut. As you can see, her locks continue to grow wildly and freely. Out of professional courtesy, we didn't hold up the mirror behind her head -- so that she might not have an opportunity to deride our work, but also to spare her the truth that she is going bald in the back.

A recent animal summit was convened in the Bender household with Charlotte playing the role of Switzerland. The kitchen was selected as a neutral location, in that it afforded the cat the high ground and the baby the comfort of a lamb chair. After a lengthy filibuster from our daughter, which primarily consisted of the vowel sound "oh," the negotiations between the animal contingent and the rest of the house commenced.

The baby managed to broker a peace between the warring nations of Charlie and Houdini long enough for some meaningful legislation to pass. It was ruled that everyone should be fed more. The duopoly in charge have procured oatmeal and formula -- pictures of the implementation will be forthcoming.

Child labor laws have finally come to the North Pole -- it was a hard fought victory of new-world laws over old world magic. Here, one of Santa's elves is seen enjoying a well-earned respite.

Sadly this elf has not learned about the spirit of Christmas and hordes all of her toys with the understanding that general cuteness is an acceptable excuse in this house. In her defense, it remains a marvel to all that she has developed the manual dexterity to not only grip toys, but on occasion, use them to gently (but repeatedly) strike herself in the cheek and forehead with them.

Sources inside Santa's workshop suggest that this elf is attempting to spot check all of the toys through the same method as barkeeps and prospectors in the Old West by biting down on them to test their legitimacy. However, seeing as she has not yet developed any teeth, this is proving a difficult metric to utilize. Accordingly, the cheek and forehead-strike maneuver may be a stopgap solution until the smallest elf in the shop gets a head full of chompers.

Since a lot of our culture is currently recycled from when I was a kid -- Transformers, Cabbage Patch Kids -- it shouldn't be surprising that Charlotte's new favorite toy is one of my childhood classics -- Raggedy Ann.

I had Raggedy Ann's brother (friend/twin) Raggedy Andy, who besides sharing a name with my real-life older brother, had overalls, of which I was a big fan.

Kate just remains hopeful that she is a red-head like Raggedy Ann -- so perhaps this doll will inspire Charlotte to better choices than overalls or apron-covered, denim dresses. Raggedy Ann/Andy are best taken as suggestions of what might be, rather than literal fashion guides.

In today's installment of "what's that look saying," the above picture suggests that my daughter has discovered incredulity. It will serve her well as she is the offspring of a man prone to making up stories. Charlotte can also raise an eyebrow in mock surprise -- it is a devastating retort from a baby.

Today's post is meant to serve notice to all of the plush ducks out there -- it's time you learned that there is a tiny baby mouth that is ready to leave you slightly damp and smelly. Charlotte recently discovered that she can not only grasp objects, but that if they are moved towards her open mouth, they can dock like a tiny, furry spaceship.

But before you are devoured alive duck, you will be jostled, smacked, and even lost for brief periods of time. And just when you think that you might escape, an adult hand will swoop in and place you once again in the crying baby's grasp. After that, you'll watch as two eyes become crossed and the tractor beam locks on to your beak.

So, to you plush ducks and moose and butterflies, I give you advance warning. The baby is coming and she is hungry.