<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:39:19.361-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of the Mouth of a Preschooler...</title><subtitle type='html'>Funny things Belle says</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>44</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-5093401150585754718</id><published>2008-05-11T09:06:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T09:08:30.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard Work</title><content type='html'>Last Saturday we were working in the garden, trying to get the last of the tomatoes and cabbage in.  Jeff was doing some heavy lifting, and Belle was trying her best to help.  She quickly got tired of working and said to Jeff, "This is harder than a weekday."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-5093401150585754718?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/5093401150585754718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=5093401150585754718' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/5093401150585754718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/5093401150585754718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2008/05/hard-work.html' title='Hard Work'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-1169719893716382083</id><published>2008-03-25T19:29:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T19:30:54.933-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Jeff gave each of the kids a banana today, and belle was having a little difficulty opening hers because they're a little green.  Jeff asked fi she needed help and she said,"I think I know how to open it, but it needs to be a little more understanding."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-1169719893716382083?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/1169719893716382083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=1169719893716382083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/1169719893716382083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/1169719893716382083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2008/03/jeff-gave-each-of-kids-banana-today-and.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-5760456690692313652</id><published>2008-02-13T12:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T12:03:20.751-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Cracks me out...</title><content type='html'>This morning we let the kids watch a video, and Belle started laughing and said, "That cracks me out..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I asked her what that means, she said, "It means all funned out."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-5760456690692313652?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/5760456690692313652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=5760456690692313652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/5760456690692313652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/5760456690692313652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2008/02/cracks-me-out.html' title='Cracks me out...'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-6504705960719997747</id><published>2008-02-07T21:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T21:51:49.392-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night, Belle went to bed with her hair still damp.  This morning, she got up with a completely wild head.  Of course, her hair in the back is long enough to weigh it down but her bangs are short and were going wild.  She said to mom, "Mimi, my bangs are hanging up."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-6504705960719997747?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/6504705960719997747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=6504705960719997747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/6504705960719997747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/6504705960719997747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2008/02/last-night-belle-went-to-bed-with-her.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-1706964291411837414</id><published>2007-12-20T19:41:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T19:41:35.638-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mealtime Prayers</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: Arial;"&gt;The kids have started praying for meals. Trey’s prayers are simply “Thank you Jesus, Amen.” But Belle prays for different things each time. Today at lunch Belle prayed, “And thank you for everything I want.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-1706964291411837414?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/1706964291411837414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=1706964291411837414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/1706964291411837414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/1706964291411837414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/12/mealtime-prayers.html' title='Mealtime Prayers'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-1861365662144908992</id><published>2007-09-17T16:35:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T19:35:03.837-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bound to be a Foster...</title><content type='html'>Last night after church, Belle came home and asked for lunch (not supper, but lunch).  I asked what she wanted and she said a sandwich, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Well, since we didn't have any gluten-free bread, I asked her what she wanted me to use for bread.  Belle said, "HAM!".  I asked several times if she was sure, and even showed it all to her in the kitchen.  She assured me that's what she wanted.  By the time we were through, she had two turkey slices, each with sunflower butter and raspberry jelly rolled up in them, sliced black olives, dried cherries, a salted carrot and a glass of lemon water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reminds me of the peanut butter, ketchup, and dill pickle sandwiches of old ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-1861365662144908992?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/1861365662144908992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=1861365662144908992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/1861365662144908992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/1861365662144908992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/09/bound-to-be-foster.html' title='Bound to be a Foster...'/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-4708639989083978072</id><published>2007-07-20T13:03:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-20T13:05:59.398-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Like Father, like daughter, sort of...</title><content type='html'>Belle has watched me over the last few weeks as I would sit in my chair and stretch, folding my hands and inverting over my hand to pop my knuckles.  She'd ask me how to do it, and to show her how, so I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, today she's at home with Kerry, and she decided to try what she had seen daddy do several times.  She folded her hands, inverted them over her head and with excitement she proclaimed, "My nickles just popped!".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-4708639989083978072?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/4708639989083978072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=4708639989083978072' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/4708639989083978072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/4708639989083978072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/07/like-father-like-daughter-sort-of.html' title='Like Father, like daughter, sort of...'/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-3246332951433507411</id><published>2007-06-26T14:53:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T14:57:15.694-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I've heard it said that someone's speech stunk...</title><content type='html'>but not in the way Belle said it the other morning.  Belle was snuggled with me in my easy chair and she put her face up to mine to say something.  I spoke back to her, then she looked at me funny and said, "Daddy, you're voice is bad."  I asked her if I was talking too loud, and she said, "No.", then it dawned on me what she must have meant.  I asked her if my morning breath was rough, and she said, "Yes."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-3246332951433507411?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/3246332951433507411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=3246332951433507411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/3246332951433507411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/3246332951433507411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/06/ive-heard-it-said-that-someones-speech.html' title='I&apos;ve heard it said that someone&apos;s speech stunk...'/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-3731662611238673743</id><published>2007-06-26T14:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T14:54:07.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Belle just took a sticker from off of an apple, and put it on her nose and said, "Ta da!  How do I look?  Like an apple?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-3731662611238673743?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/3731662611238673743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=3731662611238673743' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/3731662611238673743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/3731662611238673743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/06/belle-just-took-sticker-from-off-of.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-6147986973730988315</id><published>2007-06-19T06:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-19T06:16:13.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gotta love those child analogies</title><content type='html'>Kerry was in the bathroom the other morning getting ready for us to go somewhere or other when Belle decided to come in to conduct some business, and while she was there, she looked at Kerry and said, "Mom, you're as beautiful as a clean toilet."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-6147986973730988315?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/6147986973730988315/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=6147986973730988315' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/6147986973730988315'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/6147986973730988315'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/06/gotta-love-those-child-analogies.html' title='Gotta love those child analogies'/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-4556751573374510828</id><published>2007-04-14T11:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T05:53:10.958-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter Pictures</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIyf-BPXI/AAAAAAAAABE/4DwYs-CFYE0/s1600-h/IMG_2493.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIyf-BPXI/AAAAAAAAABE/4DwYs-CFYE0/s400/IMG_2493.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053329920554515826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIzP-BPYI/AAAAAAAAABM/t6jE8_SMYD0/s1600-h/IMG_2503.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIzP-BPYI/AAAAAAAAABM/t6jE8_SMYD0/s400/IMG_2503.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053329933439417730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIz_-BPZI/AAAAAAAAABU/5uFOOQ0o3Q8/s1600-h/IMG_2520.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIz_-BPZI/AAAAAAAAABU/5uFOOQ0o3Q8/s400/IMG_2520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053329946324319634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEI0v-BPaI/AAAAAAAAABc/lcWhD8qKv5Q/s1600-h/IMG_2537.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEI0v-BPaI/AAAAAAAAABc/lcWhD8qKv5Q/s400/IMG_2537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053329959209221538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-4556751573374510828?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/4556751573374510828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=4556751573374510828' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/4556751573374510828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/4556751573374510828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/04/easter-pictures.html' title='Easter Pictures'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEIyf-BPXI/AAAAAAAAABE/4DwYs-CFYE0/s72-c/IMG_2493.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-5189509788799104677</id><published>2007-04-14T11:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T05:53:11.519-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Belle's first fishing trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHX_-BPTI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Bcg44t-9blg/s1600-h/IMG_2436.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHX_-BPTI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Bcg44t-9blg/s400/IMG_2436.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053328365776354610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHYf-BPUI/AAAAAAAAAAs/_ErvSKeePM0/s1600-h/IMG_2437.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHYf-BPUI/AAAAAAAAAAs/_ErvSKeePM0/s400/IMG_2437.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053328374366289218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHZv-BPVI/AAAAAAAAAA0/_5bE4H1vT-c/s1600-h/IMG_2443.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHZv-BPVI/AAAAAAAAAA0/_5bE4H1vT-c/s400/IMG_2443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053328395841125714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHav-BPWI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1fFScLx4Jw4/s1600-h/IMG_2477.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHav-BPWI/AAAAAAAAAA8/1fFScLx4Jw4/s400/IMG_2477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5053328413020994914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-5189509788799104677?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/5189509788799104677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=5189509788799104677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/5189509788799104677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/5189509788799104677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/04/belles-first-fishing-trip.html' title='Belle&apos;s first fishing trip'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/RiEHX_-BPTI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Bcg44t-9blg/s72-c/IMG_2436.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-4582549742790510129</id><published>2007-04-14T11:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-14T11:50:03.232-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Recently, Belle drank a large container of watered-down  juice on an ampty stomach.  She had already been to the toilet four times in a short period of time, and she asked to go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Again?  You just went!"&lt;br /&gt;"I need to went again!" was her reply.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-4582549742790510129?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/4582549742790510129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=4582549742790510129' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/4582549742790510129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/4582549742790510129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/04/recently-belle-drank-large-container-of.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-154896924365471928</id><published>2007-04-14T11:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-14T11:48:13.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This afternoon, Belle was running ahead of Jeff to beat him to his chair when Jeff came in and went to sit down.  She fell into the chair and exclaimed, '"I'm fast as a rotten egg!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-154896924365471928?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/154896924365471928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=154896924365471928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/154896924365471928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/154896924365471928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/04/this-afternoon-belle-was-running-ahead.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-8763379067295925095</id><published>2007-03-04T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T14:30:24.472-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning when it was time to get up, Belle came in and climbed up on the bed with us.   She said good morning to me and gave me a kiss, and started telling me about her dolls that she sleeps with, Gladys the Cabbage Patch doll, and two little floppy stuffed bunnies.  She said "I sleep with Gladys and Bunny the Bunny."  We asked her which one was 'bunny the bunny.'  She climbed down off the bed and went to get them and brought back the two bunnies to us.  We asked her again what their names were, and she replied again that they were both named "Bunny the Bunny."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-8763379067295925095?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/8763379067295925095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=8763379067295925095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/8763379067295925095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/8763379067295925095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/03/this-morning-when-it-was-time-to-get-up.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-3320062933475056338</id><published>2007-03-04T14:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T05:53:11.686-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Picture of Belle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/ResbLUIbVcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ADhpMebgqpA/s1600-h/Belle+20070302.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/ResbLUIbVcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ADhpMebgqpA/s400/Belle+20070302.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5038150489340597698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-3320062933475056338?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/3320062933475056338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=3320062933475056338' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/3320062933475056338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/3320062933475056338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2007/03/blog-post.html' title='New Picture of Belle'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3rUe7uL66BU/ResbLUIbVcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/ADhpMebgqpA/s72-c/Belle+20070302.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-116577459336216498</id><published>2006-12-10T13:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T13:16:33.376-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Earlier, Jeff and Belle were in the kitchen trying to fix breakfast.  We're all home with a cold/sore throat virus.  Jeff was grating some sweet potatoes with our box grater.  A few weeks ago, Belle accidentally cut herself on the grater while trying to grate a bar of laundry soap, and she was concerned that her daddy might hurt himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Daddy, it's very sentimental.  Don't cut yourself."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-116577459336216498?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/116577459336216498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=116577459336216498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/116577459336216498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/116577459336216498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/12/earlier-jeff-and-belle-were-in-kitchen.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-116095862383443691</id><published>2006-10-15T19:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T19:30:23.846-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More birthday pics</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/1600/IMG_1777.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/400/IMG_1777.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/1600/IMG_1817.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/400/IMG_1817.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/1600/IMG_1727.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/400/IMG_1727.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-116095862383443691?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/116095862383443691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=116095862383443691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/116095862383443691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/116095862383443691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/10/more-birthday-pics.html' title='More birthday pics'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-116094943781130174</id><published>2006-10-15T16:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T16:57:17.836-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday Belle!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/1600/IMG_1721.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/400/IMG_1721.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/1600/IMG_1702.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/400/IMG_1702.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/1600/IMG_1715.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4379/1573/400/IMG_1715.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We celebrated Belle's fourth birthday this weekend. Here are some pictures from her party.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-116094943781130174?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/116094943781130174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=116094943781130174' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/116094943781130174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/116094943781130174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/10/happy-birthday-belle.html' title='Happy Birthday Belle!'/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115742129974824022</id><published>2006-09-04T20:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T20:54:59.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night, Jeff took Belle to church.  Because of the gluten issues in the nursery, we've had to pull the kids out of nursery so Belle was sitting with Jeff in the service.  During the song service, Belle sung at the top of her lungs, then when the song was over and everyone sat down, from the back of the church, she proclaimed "I did it!" loud enough that everyone in the choir heard her and started laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff reminded her before the preaching started to "listen to the preacher."  Half-way through the preaching, Belle needed to go to the bathroom.  Jeff took her to the bathroom, and while they were in there, Jeff said "Who are you supposed to listen to in church?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle replied, "The creature!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115742129974824022?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115742129974824022/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115742129974824022' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115742129974824022'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115742129974824022'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/09/last-night-jeff-took-belle-to-church.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115738903260674814</id><published>2006-09-04T11:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T11:57:12.626-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today is the first day of homeschool for Belle.  We're doing K-4 even though she doesn't turn 4 until October.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started out this morning with Bible Study.  I picked out the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego for this week, until the Abeka Bible cirriculum we ordered arrives.  After telling her the story, I sat her down at her table with a Nest Family coloring page showing the guards throwing them into the furnace, and I asked her, "Belle, do you know what happened to Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her reply, "They got fired."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115738903260674814?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115738903260674814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115738903260674814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115738903260674814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115738903260674814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/09/today-is-first-day-of-homeschool-for.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115429345866272927</id><published>2006-07-30T16:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-30T16:04:18.673-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mimi:"Well, I guess I better get this show on the road and get dinner fixed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle: "Somebody showed on the road?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mimi: "No, I mean I'm going to go fix dinner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Belle:  "Oh.  You mean we're going to eat outside?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115429345866272927?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115429345866272927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115429345866272927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115429345866272927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115429345866272927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/07/mimiwell-i-guess-i-better-get-this.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115094394862880729</id><published>2006-06-21T21:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-21T21:39:08.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Jeff was getting Belle ready for bed tonight, and he was flipping her around.  She got very excited and started yelling "Again!  Again!  Lotsa Gins!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115094394862880729?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115094394862880729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115094394862880729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115094394862880729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115094394862880729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/06/jeff-was-getting-belle-ready-for-bed.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115064412844525458</id><published>2006-06-18T10:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-18T10:25:29.690-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Jeff and I stayed in Raleigh last week for his job, while he worked another week of crazy, long hours. We had planned on staying through Friday morning, then Jeff would leave to go to the Wallace office, dropping us off at home on the way. He'd then make it home for dinner that evening and have the week-end off. The best-laid plans...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday morning, everyone but Belle woke up with what seemed like a combination stomach bug and flu virus. By that evening, we decided it would be best if we headed home. We were both having flash-backs to that ill-fated FL vacation where we spent what was supposed to be the last two days, plus several unplanned days, in a hotel room, all four of us violently ill, unable to move without throwing up. With no food, clean towels, or clean clothes, no less. If I'm going to be that sick, I'd rather be at home where I at least have a pantry and my washer and dryer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we leave the hotel about 9pm, and Belle is hungry. We decide to stop and pick something up, feed her in the car, and hope they both fall asleep on the long drive home. We go over the near-by drive-thru options, and Jeff mentions Chick-fil-A. Belle excitedly proclaims "Chick-Play! I love Chick-Play!" So begins the stream of verbal consciousness extolling the virtues of fast-food playgrounds from the backseat, while we carry on our front-seat conversation about what we're going to do if someone needs to stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get to the drive-thru, we have to go past the restaurant, turn into the shopping center, and go back in the direction from whence we came. Belle stops her monologue momentarily to ask, "Daddy, are we driving in circles?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115064412844525458?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115064412844525458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115064412844525458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115064412844525458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115064412844525458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/06/jeff-and-i-stayed-in-raleigh-last-week.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115016826842342109</id><published>2006-06-12T22:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-12T22:11:08.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Last night, I was getting the kids ready for bed.  Belle plopped down on the bed beside me and flopped over onto her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whew!  I'se hooped!"&lt;br /&gt;"Hooped?  You mean pooped?  You're tired."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, mama, that's what I said.  I'se hooped.  I not tired.  I don't want to go to bed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In typical toddler 'not tired' fashion, she was asleep in less than 5 minutes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115016826842342109?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115016826842342109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115016826842342109' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115016826842342109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115016826842342109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/06/last-night-i-was-getting-kids-ready.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-115016461173545203</id><published>2006-06-12T21:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-26T14:57:48.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Belle was getting her baby doll, Gladys, ready for bed.  She had Gladys laying on the bed and had changed her into her nightgown.   I had a cup of water beside me, and she took Gladys' cup and handed it to me and asked me for some water for Gladys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Momma, Gladys needs some water, and a Bible story, and a prayer, and a hug and a kiss before bed."&lt;br /&gt;I was hesitant to give her some water in the cup, thinking she might soak the doll.  "Belle, we don't want to get Gladys wet."&lt;br /&gt;She looks at me with a completely deadpan look on her face and says "It's pretend, mama."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-115016461173545203?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/115016461173545203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=115016461173545203' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115016461173545203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/115016461173545203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/06/belle-was-getting-her-baby-doll-gladys.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114969539051514398</id><published>2006-06-07T10:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-07T10:49:50.536-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I made french toast for breakfast this morning.  I took the kid's pieces and cut them into strips so they could hold them and feed themselves.  That's a big hit around here.  After we were done eating, I finished fixing more to freeze for later.  After I went back into the living room while the toast was cooling, Belle brought me a piece and said "Mom, this bread wants to be a stip."  LOL  I asked her if she wanted more to eat, and she did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114969539051514398?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114969539051514398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114969539051514398' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114969539051514398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114969539051514398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-made-french-toast-for-breakfast-this.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114728354398667119</id><published>2006-05-10T12:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-10T12:52:24.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"Mom!  Trey dumped out all the blocks!"&lt;br /&gt;"I see."&lt;br /&gt;"No you don't!  You're looking at your computer!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114728354398667119?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114728354398667119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114728354398667119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114728354398667119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114728354398667119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/05/mom-trey-dumped-out-all-blocks-i-see.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114705348357756182</id><published>2006-05-07T20:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-05-07T20:58:03.590-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Belle has been potty trained during the day, but she is still having trouble at night.  To help with that, we were thinking of cutting out the taking of a bottle of water to bed with her.  Well, last night I decided to try it and see how it went.  Without fail, Belle asked for her stuffed animal and a bottle of water.  I told her, No, that we wanted to help her not wet the bed so she could quit wearing diapers at night, but she wasn't real enthused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was Bible story time, and the lights were out, so I was going to have to give her one instead of reading it like I usually do.  I decided to tell her the creation story.  As soon as I got to the part of God creating the water, Belle says, "I think water is a really good idea, Dad."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I laughed, but said No again.  Next, Belle asked me to pray for her, and of course, I would.  She said, "Dad, I need you to pray for me about 2 things."  I was impressed, and could hardly wait to see what she was going to come out with.  She says, "Dad, I need you to pray to God about me some water, and an animal."  She got the stuffed animal, but not the water.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114705348357756182?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114705348357756182/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114705348357756182' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114705348357756182'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114705348357756182'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/05/belle-has-been-potty-trained-during.html' title=''/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114373943637879145</id><published>2006-03-30T12:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-03-30T12:23:56.393-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Every Thursday we go to Toddler Time at the local library.  I have strained a ligament in my back, so this morning Mom took Belle and I stayed home with Trey.  There are several pine trees in front of the library.  When Belle came home, she brought me a "porcupine cone" from the library.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114373943637879145?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114373943637879145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114373943637879145' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114373943637879145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114373943637879145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/03/every-thursday-we-go-to-toddler-time.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114088202903597230</id><published>2006-02-25T10:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-25T10:40:29.046-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Belle was building with her dupelos.  She was grouping them by size and color on the floor, putting them into matching towers, then attaching the towers together according to size.  So she finally gets the last of the 100+ attached in a line of dupleos that extends almost across the entire sunroom floor, and she excitedly comes running to Jeff and exclaims, "I built it in stages!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can tell her daddy's an engineer, right?  LOL&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114088202903597230?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114088202903597230/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114088202903597230' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114088202903597230'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114088202903597230'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/belle-was-building-with-her-dupelos.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114080495661001452</id><published>2006-02-24T13:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-24T13:15:56.623-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Expanding on her recent quote, "I need a next tissue for my crying drops", Belle came up with the following quote the other night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I need a next tissue for my crying drops to put them behind my face where they belong."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114080495661001452?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114080495661001452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114080495661001452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114080495661001452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114080495661001452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/expanding-on-her-recent-quote-i-need.html' title=''/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-114021085532951490</id><published>2006-02-17T16:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-17T16:14:15.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Belle and I were watching March of the Penguins this afternoon. We brought it home from the library yesterday, and I had been talking to her about watching it. In the first 10 or 15 minutes of the movie, they show the penguins beginning their long journey. I explained to Belle that they were going somewhere special. Belle decided that they were all headed to "Papa's house."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later in the afternoon, Belle was crying. She said "Mommy, I need a 'next tissue for my crying drops." She was asking for a Kleenex.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-114021085532951490?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/114021085532951490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=114021085532951490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114021085532951490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/114021085532951490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/belle-and-i-were-watching-march-of.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113976597596606661</id><published>2006-02-12T12:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-13T00:01:13.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning, Kerry was in bed with a severe case of Mastitis, so I stayed home to look after her and the children. We had Sunday School at home, with me teaching them about Joseph as a young man. As I read the story to them, I would go back and ask them questions about what I was reading. The story started with the fact of where the lived, in Canaan. Several times through the story, I would ask Belle where Joseph lived, and she would give the reply:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a Cave!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, by the time we finished the story, I asked Belle one last time where Joseph lived. She said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a Canaan!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At last, we got through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113976597596606661?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113976597596606661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113976597596606661' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113976597596606661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113976597596606661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-morning-kerry-was-in-bed-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113970669436069977</id><published>2006-02-11T20:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-11T20:11:34.370-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Kerry has been down in the bed today and was drinking from a large plastic bottle like what you might have while riding a bike, and Belle wanted a swallow.  Well, Kerry was drinking lemonade made with RealLemon juice and when Belle tried it, she said the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's probably tasty, but dense.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113970669436069977?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113970669436069977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113970669436069977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113970669436069977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113970669436069977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/kerry-has-been-down-in-bed-today-and.html' title=''/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113933347145873333</id><published>2006-02-07T12:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-07T12:31:11.473-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This morning Trey was up before Belle, and when she came into the living room, Trey was nursing.  She climbed up into the chair with us, and I said good morning to her.  She said "I love my Trey.  And I like you too, Mommy."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113933347145873333?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113933347145873333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113933347145873333' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113933347145873333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113933347145873333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-morning-trey-was-up-before-belle.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113924691370573091</id><published>2006-02-06T12:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T12:28:33.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The past week Belle has started sleeping with stuffed dogs. Since she doesn't have a 'security object' she sleeps with, each night she gets to pick out a stuffed animal or two to sleep with. I have a stuffed muskrat that I brought home from Canada that she has confiscated, and she thinks it's a dog. I have explained to her that it is a muskrat, but I didn't think she got it. This morning she got up and we were getting ready to go downstairs, and she went back over to her bed and picked up the muskrat and said "I take my mustard scratch downstairs." I had to ask her to repeat it to make sure I had understood her, then had a good laugh before we took the "mustard scratch" downstairs to join us at breakfast.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113924691370573091?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113924691370573091/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113924691370573091' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113924691370573091'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113924691370573091'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/past-week-belle-has-started-sleeping.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113924654163888063</id><published>2006-02-06T12:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-06T12:22:21.640-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This weekend we were watching a program that had been taped to the DVR before Christmas.  A commercial came on that showed Santa using a Swiffer Carpet Flick.  Since we don't do Santa, the only exposure she has had to him is seeing Robbie Rotten dressed up like him on LazyTown.  Belle got all excited and ran for the laundry room, where we keep our Carpet Flick, and she said "Robbie Rotten uses a Swiffer!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113924654163888063?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113924654163888063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113924654163888063' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113924654163888063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113924654163888063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/this-weekend-we-were-watching-program.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113901321643352254</id><published>2006-02-03T19:32:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-03T19:33:36.433-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Jeff and Belle were cleaning up her toys this evening after dinner. While carrying a handful of toys to the sunroom, she started hopping. She hopped over to Jeff and said "Hopping is my favorite day of the year!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113901321643352254?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113901321643352254/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113901321643352254' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113901321643352254'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113901321643352254'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/02/jeff-and-belle-were-cleaning-up-her_03.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113789002703735747</id><published>2006-01-21T19:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-21T19:33:47.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The kids haven't seen Jeff since Monday evening.  This morning they got up at their usual barely-dawn time and excitedly greeted Daddy.  Jeff cooked breakfast, as is our normal Saturday morning routine, then got in the floor and started playing with them.  Belle took off running and proclaimed "Daddy!  I want to play hide and go sick!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113789002703735747?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113789002703735747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113789002703735747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113789002703735747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113789002703735747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/01/kids-havent-seen-jeff-since-monday.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113720955821652282</id><published>2006-01-13T22:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-13T22:32:38.223-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We slept in a little bit this morning and Belle woke up and got right out of bed.  When she does that, she typically goes and gets our glasses and hands them to us, expecting us to immediately jump out of bed.  Well, this morning, she get's Kerry's glasses and brings them to her and says, "Here's your glasses, mommy, so you can keep your eyes warm."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113720955821652282?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113720955821652282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113720955821652282' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113720955821652282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113720955821652282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/01/we-slept-in-little-bit-this-morning.html' title=''/><author><name>Jeff Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07475066711342968935</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113676412256474931</id><published>2006-01-08T18:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T18:48:42.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Belle came in this evening from spending time at Mom and Dad's house.  She comes bounding into the living room, and then runs back and hugs mom and says "Mimi!  I'm so glad you're here in my house today!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113676412256474931?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113676412256474931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113676412256474931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113676412256474931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113676412256474931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/01/belle-came-in-this-evening-from.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113673851639504229</id><published>2006-01-08T11:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T11:41:56.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mom and I got in the car the other day to run to Wal-mart to pick up a few things.  We buckled both kids in, then got in the front seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mommy!  Do you have your belt seat?  Mimi!  You have to do your belt seat!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took us a minute to realize she was talking about the seat belt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113673851639504229?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113673851639504229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113673851639504229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113673851639504229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113673851639504229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/01/mom-and-i-got-in-car-other-day-to-run.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20694889.post-113673826059255123</id><published>2006-01-08T11:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-08T11:37:40.600-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I told Belle we were having hot dogs, milk and applesauce for lunch.  I asked her there was anything else she wanted, expecting that she'd ask me for a banana or the like.  She told me she wanted "Peanut butter, and jelly, and holly mustard."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/20694889-113673826059255123?l=bellesays.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/feeds/113673826059255123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=20694889&amp;postID=113673826059255123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113673826059255123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/20694889/posts/default/113673826059255123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bellesays.blogspot.com/2006/01/i-told-belle-we-were-having-hot-dogs.html' title=''/><author><name>KerryAnn Foster</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18430227138484561054</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://cookingnt.com/images/IMG_2537.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
