On Thanksgiving, I took a lot of really crappy pictures:
I told Noah I want to save up and drop $800 on a camera but I don't think he heard me because he just went straight to the fridge and downed two Ten-Fidy's right quick.
I was trying to take pictures of the girls making their gingerbread houses.
Unfortunately, Indy got herself almost immediately drunk:
She spent the rest of the night dancing on the table wearing nothing but a pair of my underwear and an oven mitt and shouting "Hey guys, check out my moves! Check out my moves I says! My moves is the best moves in the whole apple town. I's is habbing me awn onwee on da dis tie-em, guys. GUYS! LOOK AT ME!!"
That is, when she wasn't busy calling Max a fascist dictator and Ruby a socialist.
Ayla and Noah started knocking them back as well:
Mercy and Lucy were all like, 'Omg, can you BELIEVE those blackguards? Methinks they shall be cordially uninvited to our upcoming Venetian Breakfast':
Really, I felt they made a right Cheltenham tragedy out of it.
The Tuttles are all just so exceedingly photogenic, though, so you can quickly forgive them for indulging in a little bit of Regency-era snubbery:
Obviously Goodwifes Tatum and Tuttle, for all their teetotaling, were clandestinely imbibing a little something of their own:
Ayla sounded her barbaric yawp:
Then Indy wrestled with daddy until daddy got all Mike Tyson on her:
I blame the sherry.