It Has To Be Said

So.

Here's Wilder.

He's really devouring the Word.

The Sniffing Habit

Bergen has a sniffing problem.

Seriously.

He sniffs you if he likes you.

(I have no reason to make this up.)

I get sniffed pretty often. Usually routine, run of the mill type sniffing. My hands. My arms. When we are cuddling - my neck. Sometimes my hair. Just sniffing of the normal variety.

Kevin - now that guys gets sniffed. And how! Bergen just hovers around and over (maybe even under on occasion) and sniffs Kevin. Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. For as long as Kevin will allow. (For which he has gained an amazingly high tolerance, as a matter of fact.) Lately he has been experimenting with a new sniffing location - under Kevin's armpit. And when he emerges from the pit, he generally comments, "You smell good." So that's a plus.

And there's another little guy that Bergen has a fondness for smelling as well. Yeah, you guessed it. Wilder. Bergen sniffs his little brother so much that we always say he is trying to absorb him. As in, "Bergen Hawkeye. Stop absorbing your little brother."

So I guess if you want to know if this four year old likes you - hang out with him for a while. If he sniffs you, you're in!

O Boy!

And he's up . . .

belly off the ground

legs pumping

into a genuine crawl.

Plus . . .

Wilder has discovered

how to stand up

in his crib

but he

doesn't know

how

to

get

back

down.

O boy!

Little Boy

It wasn't just the first Christmas we ever went to Disney. Nor was it just the first time we visited my Dad & Jenny at their new place in Florida. Or even just the first time we stayed at the Phelps' house.

There was another first this year.

For a little boy.

Named Otto Fox Wilder.

It was his first Christmas. Ever.

He won't ever have another first Christmas. And even though I know he won't have any recollection of this first Christmas, it was still pretty special to celebrate with him this year.

I think I can say confidently that this little boy was the absolute best thing to come out of 2009 for me.

And when I think back to this little boy pre-birth, I cringe at my own thoughts and I am ashamed of my own hesitations. I cannot believe the doubts I carried and the paths I allowed my mind to wander down. I am sorry. So sorry. (Oh, for a magic wand of Erasing The Past.)

We always purchase the kids one book for Christmas and the tradition has always been to place that wrapped book at the foot of the bed while you slept on Christmas Eve.

The book we bought for Fox's first Christmas is called Little Boy.

It is such a sweet book. (In fact, if you have a son - go order that book today. No. I am not getting commission. Although that would be cool.)

I am grateful (beyond my poor ability to express) to God for His scandalous mercy in allowing us the opportunity to know this last little Keigley. Our last little boy. My little boy. My Wilde Fox.

This is what I wrote in the cover of Otto's first Christmas book . . .

Little Boy.

It's your first Christmas.

And so much of us depends on you.

On your beautiful grin - toothless and wide.

On your giggles. On your warmth as we cuddle.

What a blessing you are.

One we are so grateful to enjoy.

O Little Boy.

Let us live in the now.

With you.

Slowly.

Here We Go

Alert: This post is being typed from a computer with a dying battery. In a hotel room with no access to photographs.

The Band of Keigley are on the road. (And you would know all the minutia of our family's Christmas journey south if you followed Riley's Facebook updates. But please do not. We do not wish to support her addiction. I'm actually not joking.)

The start was a bit shaky . . . an hour and a half later than intended, snow and ice the first forty-five minutes, an accidental opening of the completely, tightly packed Suburban's back door two minutes before the official Buckling In Of Passengers was scheduled to begin, half of the loaf of bread originally intended to be our lunch eaten by Super Nutso But Lovable Terror Magnus, and a near breakdown only narrowly averted by a kind husband's quick and gentle words.

But we made it all in one piece through our first two stops of our adventure and are currently resting at Stop Number Three.

In Jacksonville we hung out with Sarah and Erik and Austin. We were treated like royalty. Fresh, delicious Snickerdoodles were sitting on the counter when we arrived. Sweet hand decorated Christmas tins filled with treats sat underneath the tree for Keiglets. Scrumptious from scratch pancakes, thick cut bacon and some kind of tasty sausage were served up for dinner. And Luna was all quiet and sedate. We really felt loved and welcomed. What a sweet start to our trip. Thank you Sarah and Erik - thank you! You will become a regular stop on our southern route, should we be wild enough to undertake said journey in the future! (And if you'll have us of course!)

Reluctantly the kids buckled up again - it was as if Otto Fox's muscle memories kicked in with the clicking of his carseat buckle. The cries of frustration began. Really, he was such a trooper. Who wants to be strapped into the same place for hours on end, with little to no wiggle room?

The Suburban headed itself straight to Melbourne - the GPS leading the way. (On a side note, apparently Piper Finn is now afraid of the GPS. For hours (yes, hours) she spoke these words, "I scared. GPS." It cannot be explained. I will not try.)

In Melbourne there resides a family. A beautiful family. Three great kids. Two amazing parents. We love them. (I could go on. I could gush. And it would all be deserved.) We had so much fun that this really needs to be several posts - but there's that dying battery issue, you know?

We attended church with them. Enjoyed seeing Page play guitar on stage. Then we celebrated two SIX birthdays - Mosely and Hezekiah. You actually can see adorable photos of this at Gretchen's blog. Cute. Cute. Cute. Gretchen made incredible matching Mickey and Minnie Mouse cakes. Two cakes. They looked so cool. I think it was the first birthday party Mosely has had with friends her own age! And then we went to the beach, because they pretty much live in a vacation spot. And Page took photographs that might actually be so good that they might sustain the mirage - because the setting, the lighting, the background - all just worked in perfect union for a few fleeting moments. The results are fantastic! I can't believe ambient lighting can make such a difference! I hope soon you can check them out here or at Page's site. The kids played so well together. We had great conversations, delicious meals and a fab evening of screaming at the television set when Russell was completely robbed of his hard-earned Sole Survivor title. (Yeah, I said "robbed". And I will loudly and passionately defend my stance. Loudly. And passionately. Even if it is a trivial TV show. Just watch me.)

And now we are one mile outside of the entrance to the Happiest Place on Earth. (We'll just see about that Disney.) And apparently the most dangerous as well. I have never seen so many signs reminding me to lock my doors, hide my valuables and put my keys in my pocket. Makes me more than a little cautious. There was even a government-issued, flashing orange road-sign-type sign blinking and proclaiming these warnings. Yikes!

Tomorrow is Mosely's big day. A day of seeing Peter Pan. And pushing that hefty new double stroller. And riding those infamous teacups. Walking miles with six mostly small children. Watching Bergen see a giant Buzz Lightyear. Spending Riley's college tuition on a hot dog and a pretzel. Letting Mosely wear her beautiful, re-created just for her from my old flower girl days, pink fancy dress on her birthday.

It's a special day. And I know it will be perfect. And messy. And funny. And exhausting. And silly. And filled with loads of laughter and plenty of tears. And that's all okay with us!

(Blessing on you, little battery. You did real good.)

Wilde Fox

This little guy spits up . . . . a lot!

(His laundry pile is higher than all other young Keigleys combined.)

But, Kevinit - he's cute!

My Blue Eyed Boy

Do you know what song I have been in love with lately?

"Hard Rain's Gonna Fall". By Bob Dylan. Performed by Jason Mraz.

And I listened to it this morning as I took my bi-monthly run. (Or maybe I should call it my bi-monthly shuffle-my-feet-only-slightly-speedier-than-I-walk.)

I like the line about my blue-eyed son and my darling young one.

Which made me think about my little Wilde Fox of a son, conquering milestones left and right.

Eating too many new foods to count - like peas and sweet potatoes and pears. And not turning up his tiny pert nose at any of them.

Responding to our voices and our expressions and freely offering his face-altering, flat-lined grin at almost anything we say.

And now his latest feat.

Lifting that wee belly right off of the crib and pushing up securely on all fours.
Downright adorable. The very definition of it.

He may be Number Six Keigley Kid, which may imply busier parents, hand-me-down toys and already-been-worn clothes. But that Six ranking also most certainly means more love from so many more faces, hands and arms.

This kid is loved. Very well.

And there is simply no way he will not know that fact.

I hope he rests in it. I hope he rejoices in it. Finds comfort in it.

I hope this love, this abundant overflow of love that drips on his sweet life will point him to the love, the greatest love, of a God who decisively placed this minuscule man in our home.

My blue-eyed boy. My darling young one.

Our Little Wilde Fox

Look who is beginning to eat cereal!

Can you believe that there was actually a moment in every one of our lives where we could swallow liquid only and then one day, at some precise minute in our past, a spoon was shoved into our tiny mouth and we experienced a great unknown.

And then that first-time experience quickly morphed into an action that we so completely take for granted that we probably have never even thought about it again.

Crazy - huh?

Otto Fox Wilder

If you want to see how absolutely gorgeous this little Mr. Fox is ..... please check out my ultra talented friend Emma's website - Odd Dog Design & Photography.

It's linked on my sidebar.

I cannot even believe my gene pool helped create this guy!

Almost There

We miss this guy.

(I miss this man.)

He's about to get on a jet plane and head our way.

Soon.

Official Keigley CuddleFest 2K9, here we come!

Is He?

He is.

In case you were wondering.

His shirt even declares it.

Genuine baby.

The real deal.

Make My Dreams Come True

I want one.

No, not a new husband.

Certainly not another baby.

The mini silver miracle known as a Mac laptop.

I want one.

Who wants to help me?