This is me rocking the requisite wrapping bow in 1974, I was 9-months old.
I’m not sure I know where to start. Let’s just move left-to-right.
That’s my mom on the left. In the pink, button-fly, varying wale corduroys. One word: HAWT. (Are you amazingly impressed that I know that the sticky-out bit of cords is called wale? Because I do – now you know what’s in my head: trivia and minutia.)
I have no idea whose couch this is. I can tell you though, that if it were covered in some solid colored tweed, say gray or in a microfiber I’d be all over it today. I love the straight lines and lack of over stuffed pillows.
I think the sleeve on the far right is my dad. Cool that he coordinated his patterned shirt to my mom’s pants.
I think my pants were pink too. I had no idea my mom dressed us in coordinating outfits for the holidays. I’m glad I can carry on that family tradition too.
I think it’s funny there’s a bow on my head. So funny in fact that when Elliot was old enough to open his own presents I taught him to stick the bows to his own head. I’m pretty sure that’s why I had kids, to teach them party tricks.
The Christmas that Elliot was one-year old we went to Mobile (not for Xmas, but immediately after). Poor Elliot. He did not understand why people didn’t stick their bows on his head. He taught everyone what to do and then demonstrated with his aunt (hi Auntie L, in case you’re out there!).