And Then She Was Naked

It's no secret that my child enjoys being in the buff.

Every night before bath and bed time, we strip her down and let her roll about the floor, naked, on bath towels.

It's the only way we can keep her moderately tolerable during those "witching hours."

It's also so dang adorable that we don't much care.

It's gotten so fool-proof that the few times I've left the hubs with her, I've returned home to find her butt nekkid, playing as happy as a clam on her blankets with her toys.

His reasoning?

"She was starting to get fussy, babe."

And, without a boob to soothe her - she outright refuses a bottle or a pacifier now - he was left with no option, he felt, but to strip her down to her birthday suit and win her instant smile.

So, really, I shouldn't have been shocked about yesterday, when we set out to take her 6-month photos for our Christmas card.

We had a precious outfit picked out. We had just the place to do it.

We were ready.

And so was Ella.

She was as cute as a button, posing and looking off and smiling and just being a the little angel baby she always is.

Until the witching hours hit.

Then, the fussing began.

She was throwing her head back. Wiggling out of poses. Pouting at me and her father and pretty much saying, in so little words, "Mom. Dad. I'm done."

But the photographer wasn't quite finished and wanted to try and get a few more shots.

So, the hubs and I looked at each other, looked at the host of props and toys and outfits we'd brought that were obviously not working, and shook our heads.

We knew what we had to do.

And that is precisely why our child looks like this in half of her 6-month photographs.

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Happy (Naked) Monday, everyone!