These nuts are chock full o'normal.

As I sit and lovingly bang this one out, I am happy to remember today as another day that we are all [as] normal [as can be expected of us]. Two years ago the day after Christmas, I sat in the hospital with Eve on my lap as she got a blood transfusion, too tired to play with any of her presents from the day before. Yesterday, I sat with Eve in my lap to calm her down, because she wanted to lob the presents at her brother's head. And, deep down, isn't that what every parent really wants?

We're normal, normal, normal. We do things as a family that would make good Christmas cards. We are good at hiding our oddities in public. Not that we have any, but if we did, I could make a normal face so fast that you would question if you really did just see what you thought you saw. But you didn't, because we're normal, and we would never do such a thing. Never in public!

The kids loved having breakfast with Santa. They got to tell him everything they wanted, which included underwear, food coloring, and a puppy.

There were crafts. Crafts! Dan was was over the moon. And the fact that one of the crafts was cookie art made him nearly spontaneously combust. I love this picture of him, because this is his how I will forever remember his childhood: always making a craft for someone but trying to keep it secret while covered in marker.

Eve found her buddy, Franklin, and chased him up and down the hallway trying to score a kiss. Franklin also had bilateral Wilms so between the both of them, they can say a lot of really big words.

Then there were the pancakes.

Then I inexplicably had whipped cream and pancake syrup in my hair.

The girls were in a Christmas parade. Surely they would be easy to spot because they would be wearing bright red sweatshirts.

There's Waldo!

And luckily I have a very good friend who pulled Eve around in the parade so I could stay on the sidelines with Dan and Matt and eat cake and drink hot chocolate.

(I mean, we were doing lots of hard work. It's actually very hard to get warm while you are standing still.)

When Eve was done, she found the cake stash.

It's almost like she's going to need her teeth cleaned.

We've been doing nothing but normal stuff around here lately. Like taking your four-year-old to her first dentist appointment, even though the American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry would have you believe you ought to be doing this "when the first tooth appears, or no later than his/her first birthday." Eve wasn't diagnosed with cancer until her second birthday, so I can't use that card. I am so busy being Mom of the Year that I can't fit silly things like dental visits into my family's schedule. But I'm really good with their dental care and if I know my kids are going to fall asleep in the van on the way home, I make sure we stop for Junior Mints first, so we can all feel good about skipping the teeth brushing when we get home and throw their comatose little bodies into bed.

Eve was excited about going to the dentist. She made herself comfortable and opened up wide. She's always liked going to visit people with blue gloves and face masks.

After her teeth were cleaned, I wondered aloud when they were going to take x-rays. The hygienist thought it might be a bit much for Eve for the first visit because most kids her age don't like getting it done. But x-rays Eve can do. Eve can do them like I can do nacho cheese. She impresses the pants off of everyone by being still for each image, something I've never been able to do by cleaning a plate of nachos. Besides, the people you'd impress by eating a ton of nachos are not really people you'd be excited about impressing.

I've never gotten extra prizes for being good at the dentist. I've only gotten concerned looks because I have a very sensitive gag reflex.

Daniel went to the dentist later on that week and told the hygienist he had a loose tooth. She started counting 1...2...3...4...5...6...six loose teeth! "Is that true, Mom? Do I have six loose teeth?" Well, no Daniel, I think she's messing with you. Surely I'd know if you had six loose teeth. Yes, you really do have six loose teeth, Daniel! Surely you do, Daniel. I was just joking. I totally knew that.

And what do you know? Two days later, he lost his first tooth. At least it was the tooth that I realized was loose. Apparently there are five more in there that the tooth fairy has her eye on.

And while Daniel's losing teeth, I'm losing toenails. Alas, there is no toenail fairy who would be excited to exchange a toenail under your pillow for a fifty-cent piece. Not unless she had some weird kind of foot fetish, but even still- I don't want a fairy of that variety in my house.

It was expected I would lose my two big toenails after the damage I had inflicted upon them on the Ultimate Hike. My first clues were the constant heartbeat pulsing in my toes, the sensitivity whenever the bed sheet touched them, and the nails turning black. I was surprised, however, when both toenails fell off on the same day, within hours of each other. I know that the injury occurred on the same day, but for them to both fall off seventy-seven days later was incredible. Disgustingly incredible, though incredibly painless.

And now I'll have to paint my toes and pretend like that's normal. We're chock full of normal around here.