I Heart Pear-sicles

Vote with Your Mouth!

I'm not sure I understand why there's such a debate between Macs and PCs. Sure, it's obvious that I'm a Mac, but it's not simply because I'm being raised in a Mac home. To me, the way to end the debate is simple. I just use my taste buds. I spend a little time tasting each computer and like everything at my developmental stage, I trust my mouth (which as you can see in this picture, is the same way I queue my Netflix movies).



So by using your mouth, the argument is pretty easy to settle, because after all, an apple tastes way better than a window.

Old Ironsides

When I have a secret that I need to keep, or a deep inner longing that I must confess, I turn to my favorite bear Mr. Old Ironsides. I can tell him just about anything and he'll protect it just like the crew of his namesake.

My New Favorite Person

So I have discovered this beautiful creature. He hangs around inside of all of these flat shiny surfaces, so I've decided to name him Flat Baby. Whenever I see him, I smile, giggle, and will simply not look away. Mommy and Daddy have caught on, so when I start to cry or get fussy, they let me visit Flat Baby. He is so handsome that I don't imagine I'll ever grow tired of gazing at him.

Snow Day!

When I woke up on Monday, the ground was covered in this strange white substance. Based on the movies that my Daddy watches (at which I like to sneak peeks), it appears that the sky has poured out several million kilos of cocaine. After a long sigh and a brief side conversation with Daddy about his entertainment choices, my Mommy explained that it was snow, a frozen form of precipitation that falls in the winter months.

I like this stuff a lot! It even appears to be more fun than the white stuff in Daddy's movies, because I played in it all morning and no police agents came in to shoot up the front lawn. So far, my favorite thing to do is to pound it down and pack it up nice and tight. Then I like to pull my snow-covered mittens up to my face and react to the cold. It's a lot of fun. You should try it yourself.

The only thing left for me to learn is how to dress properly for playing in the snow. When Mommy asked me to get dressed for the cold, this is what I came up with at first:

Little Elf/Big Elf

This year (which is a funny thing for me to say considering the fact that I have had no other years to compare to this one), I think instead of sitting on Santa's lap (which begs another interesting question: Does this guy still not have email? Why do I have to write a letter or sit on his lap to let him know what I want? Is there some kind of terrible electromagnetic field in the North Pole that blocks the Internet? Is there something preventing the information age from penetrating the Arctic North? Now that I think about it, that would explain some of the things that Sarah Palin said in the election, but I digress...), I'm going to give him a break. Santa can come sit on my lap. As you can see, I've been practicing sitting up nice and straight, and I think I could support the weight of an elf like Santa. ...what do you mean bowl full of jelly?

"We checked every bulb didn't we?"

My Dad has recruited me to help him check all of the Christmas lights. I think I have a pretty good system down to make sure each bulb is twinkling.

First, I select a bulb that appears to be suspect.




Secondly, I put the bulb in my mouth to see if it's really glowing.





Once it's in my mouth, I make sure that the glow is really solid. I can tell if it shines through my cheeks and lights up my face.





It's usually around this time when Mommy interrupts and pulls the lights away from me.






She then reminds Daddy that I'm too young to help, but somehow I end up with the lights again.

Illegal use of the hair...

So every week my Daddy watches the Seahawks lose on this incredible mesmerizing box he calls a TV. Sadly, he tells me that I can't watch the TV until I am two or three years old (even though I distinctly recall watching an entire Boston Celtics NBA Finals game on his tummy when I was little).

I think that these rules are pretty unfair, so I have become fairly adept at craning my head to see the glow box (which is a MUCH better name than TV). I can get pretty close to spinning my head 360 degrees like an owl, or even flipping my head upside down to catch a glimpse of the miserable 2008 Seahawks (it's the only time the glowbox is on during the day).



To prevent this, my Daddy decided to make me wear his weird curly wig, which allows me to spin my head all day long, only to have my view blocked by the curly hair. For the first few minutes it's a lot of fun, but after Daddy starts getting excited about the Seahawks (which isn't very often this year), I start to become frustrated about what I'm missing. Even if he takes the wig off so I can get a peek, it's too late for me to be happy.

Bad Babysitter

My Mommy started a new job which means that three days a week I get to hang out with a new family member. My Daddy helped the first couple of days, but he's not new (even though I still fail to tire of his hilarious jokes). One of my favorite baby sitters so far is my Uncle Nathan. He gives me fuzzy kisses and has lots of hair to grab. He also lets me break a few rules and let me back the car up in the driveway, among other things I can't mention without getting in too much trouble.

Jedi Master

My parents told me that Halloween means that I get dressed up as a four-hundred-year-old frog in order to get candy. They warned that I won't get any candy this year because I'm not old enough.

Kazu started to tease me because my parents used to dress her and Hank up for Halloween and now it's my turn. So she got up in my face to rub it in:



Don't feel bad for me though, because I have ways of getting even with Kazu. I just throw a mild seizure and she doesn't know what to do. Just look at the fear in her eyes...



I'm also going to try out my Jedi powers on my Grandma...just as soon as I can get my arm out of this sleeve...

the taste of tattoos

My Dad thinks I'm going to be a wunderkind who is able to read and write at 12 months and who will be enrolled in calculus in 3rd grade at the latest. So he got this tattoo with my name on it to help me practice my writing. I can't really hold a pencil well enough yet, so he has me practicing my name one letter at a time with my tongue. I trace the letters on his arm and am getting pretty good. If someone covered a table with whipped cream, I'm pretty sure that I could lick out a pretty good version of my first name.

one more...

remember that old post about me charming the ladies? well, for those of you keeping track, mark up another one. ;-)

Hands off!

I know what you must be thinking: "Oh, what a cute little baby boy!" or perhaps "Looks like someone's found a pumpkin!"


Well both sentiments are true, and before you get any ideas, hands off my pumpkin. This one's mine. Go find your own. Seriously. Do I look like I'm joking?

Why Boys Don't Shop

Today we visited a store that had all of these tiny clothes. Usually when Daddy and I go shopping, it's for food. Usually it's for food that Mommy tells us to buy, and she often rolls her eyes when daddy comes home with the wrong things.

So I was surprised when Daddy took me to a store with clothes. I was even more surprised to see a store with all of these tiny clothes. Usually we go to stores that have clothes sized for normal people. I have no idea who all of these little people are (I believe that the called them Babies Rus) or why they have their own store, but I'm going to watch out for them. I also hope that Daddy got the right thing this time.