<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<!--Generated by Squarespace Site Server v5.11.81 (http://www.squarespace.com/) on Thu, 31 May 2012 00:35:49 GMT--><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"><title>Blog</title><subtitle>Blog</subtitle><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/</id><link rel="alternate" type="application/xhtml+xml" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/"/><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/atom.xml"/><updated>2011-12-15T17:14:15Z</updated><generator uri="http://www.squarespace.com/" version="Squarespace Site Server v5.11.81 (http://www.squarespace.com/)">Squarespace</generator><entry><title>Christmas Toes!</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/17/christmas-toes.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/17/christmas-toes.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-12-17T17:00:00Z</published><updated>2011-12-17T17:00:00Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>Check out my Christmas toes! Marisol gave me a Christmas pedicure the last time I went to nails with Mama and Grandma. I think my toes look fantastic.&nbsp;</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img style="width: 500px;" src="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/storage/photo-33.JPG?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1323969225118" alt="" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Hakuna Matata</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/15/hakuna-matata.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/15/hakuna-matata.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-12-15T16:54:38Z</published><updated>2011-12-15T16:54:38Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<div>Hakuna Matata is my favorite song these days. Hakuna Matata means no worries, BTW.&nbsp;</div>
<div></div>
<div><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/33727889?title=0&amp;byline=0&amp;portrait=0&amp;color=ff0179" width="400" height="225" frameborder="0" webkitAllowFullScreen mozallowfullscreen allowFullScreen></iframe></div>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Santa Fail</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/13/santa-fail.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/13/santa-fail.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-12-13T16:56:00Z</published><updated>2011-12-13T16:56:00Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>I'm sorry to report that there will be no photo with Santa this year, as I freaked out when it was my turn to sit in his lap. Mama brought me to the mall to see him and she tried to sufficiently prepare me for the event, but it was a no go. She told me all about it in advance, how I'd sit in his lap and tell him what I'd like for Christmas (I was going to tell him I wanted a "big teddy bear", although Nonno gave me a GIGANTIC teddy bear last year that I'm still nervous around...), smile, and take a picture. She even brought the pictures of me and Santa from 2009 and 2010 to show me that I had done it before and survived. It didn't matter. I told her I didn't want to sit in his lap and I wasn't kidding. So, no Santa picture this year. I hope I didn't hurt his feelings though. He seems nice and all, but I just didn't want to sit with him.&nbsp;</p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Card</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/10/card.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/10/card.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-12-10T15:44:00Z</published><updated>2011-12-10T15:44:00Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>Coming soon to a mailbox near you!</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/storage/card?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1322840675553" alt="" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Airplanes!</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/2/airplanes.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/12/2/airplanes.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-12-02T15:15:34Z</published><updated>2011-12-02T15:15:34Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>It's airplane week at school! Someone made a big cardboard airplane for all of the kids to play in. We have all been sharing it between the classrooms. We sit in it and play and learn about how to behave on an airplane. I have a lot of experience with airplanes already because I've been one a bunch of times, but it's a lot of fun to pretend with my friends. I should tell them about Uncle Jeff, the pilot! When asked, I say he "flies the airport."</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/storage/photo-31.jpg?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1322839231547" alt="" width="644" height="480" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Cappuccino-Williams</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/29/cappuccino-williams.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/29/cappuccino-williams.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-11-29T15:39:00Z</published><updated>2011-11-29T15:39:00Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>My parents have been teaching me about last names. I know mine, Daddy's, and Mamas. I get a little confused sometimes about which of my grandparents, aunts, and uncles are Williams and which are Cappuccinos, but for the most part I do really well!</p>
<p><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/32943834?title=0&amp;byline=0&amp;portrait=0&amp;color=ff0179" width="440" height="248" frameborder="0" webkitAllowFullScreen mozallowfullscreen allowFullScreen></iframe></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Haircut</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/26/haircut.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/26/haircut.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-11-26T15:49:00Z</published><updated>2011-11-26T15:49:00Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>I got my third haircut. I did awesome. I was very excited to go and talked about it the whole way there. I sat in a little car and I watched Barney as the lady gave me a trim. I look great. Mama and Daddy look shaggy now. They need haircuts.</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/storage/photo-32.JPG?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1322841069003" alt="" width="646" height="864" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Camera</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/17/camera.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/17/camera.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-11-17T14:20:45Z</published><updated>2011-11-17T14:20:45Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>I've been developing my photography skills with Mama's phone. Some people specialize in portraits or scenery. I specialize in floors and ceilings. I call this picture "Self Portrait."</p>
<p><span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img src="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/storage/photo-24.JPG?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1321539743386" alt="" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Nails</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/13/nails.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/13/nails.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-11-14T00:25:57Z</published><updated>2011-11-14T00:25:57Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>I've been a customer at the nail salon with Mama and Grandma since I was 8 days old. OK, maybe I wasn't a customer then, but that was when I first started going. Anyway, from the very first time I came in, the nail ladies, Sonny, Ester, and Marisol (and a few transients along the way) have totally loved me. Like seriously, they were crazy about me. They used to look for Mama to pull up and run out to the car to carry my basket inside, and they loved to hold me and talk and sing me in Korean and Spanish. They have loved watching me grow and love to spoil me whenever I come in (which isn't too often. Mama doesn't usually bring me to nails because she wants to see Grandma and that's some special alone time for me with Daddy). They feed me Cheerios, which they keep around just for me, and bananas and apples. They love to spoil my dinner. They also love to paint my toes. I like them a lot too, and whenever I arrive at nails I run inside and right into Ester's arms (she's always the first one at the door to greet me), then Sonny's. I hang out with everyone and chat with them as I eat my snacks and look through People magazine, and I give hugs to everyone when I leave. I really seem to brighten everyone's day. Other customers have gotten to know me and even compliment Mama about how cute and well behaved I always am. Here's a picture of me with Grandma at nails the other day. I don't actually get manicures--Mama says not until I stop sticking my fingers in my mouth because she doesn't want me to lick the paint off my nails--but I like to sit and dry my nails with Grandma. I love going to nails!<span class="full-image-block ssNonEditable"><span><img style="width: 480px;" src="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/storage/post-images/photo-23.JPG?__SQUARESPACE_CACHEVERSION=1321233218500" alt="" /></span></span></p>]]></content></entry><entry><title>Bed</title><id>http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/10/bed.html</id><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://www.penelopejoywilliams.com/blog/2011/11/10/bed.html"/><author><name>Penny</name></author><published>2011-11-10T18:20:22Z</published><updated>2011-11-10T18:20:22Z</updated><content type="html" xml:lang="en-US"><![CDATA[<p>I got a big-girl bed! On the day I turned 28 months, my new twin-size bed arrived. I was excited (but not nearly as excited as Mama). I was all about the bed recently and had been asking for one, but when the time came I was a little unsure about it. But I watched as Daddy took apart my crib and moved it into my brother-sister's room, and I happily helped my parents set up my new mattress and put the new sheets on the bed. And then of course I jumped right on it and wanted my parents to lie down with me. "Cuddle me!" I told them. "Lie down, Daddy. Next to me, Mama." It was great. My mom got special flower sheets that match my curtains (which are actually sheets that were made into curtains) and a purple-and-while polka dot flannel duvet cover for my comforter to keep me cozy warm. Daddy is going to build me a bed someday but for now Mama and Daddy thought it was OK for my bed to be on the floor in case I fall out when I'm goofing around and getting used to things.&nbsp;</p>
<p>To help with the transition to the big-girl bed my parents talked to me about it a lot in advance. They told me that I was a big girl and needed a bed, and that my brother-sister needed the crib. They also bought me some books about moving to a bed, but that really wasn't necessary. I was on board with the whole idea already. Everything worked out really well because my first night in my new bed was a success. Just like when I slept in my crib, my parents tucked me in, gave me some books, and left my lamp on for me to read. They then came in and kissed me again and turned off the lamp (which I turned back on when they left. I like being able to do that. I turned it on again as soon as I woke up this morning). I slept all night long in my bed; I didn't get up and wander around at all. When I woke up in the morning, I called to my parents and Mama came to get me, just like usual. But then I climbed out of my bed on my own--I didn't need Mama to pick me up! I'm such a big girl.&nbsp;</p>
<p>I hope my brother-sister likes my crib as much as I did, but I was happy to give it up for them for my new bed.&nbsp;</p>
<p><div id="squarespace-slideshow-wrapper-1320950784"><input type="hidden" id="squarespace-slideshow-params-1320950784" value="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" /><script type="text/javascript">YUI().use("*", function(Y) {Y.on("domready", function() {Y.startGallerySlideShow("squarespace-slideshow-params-1320950784");});});</script></div></p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>]]></content></entry></feed>
