Happy Father's Day, Papa!

When can I go on the road, you think?

A Strange Kind of Sense

My mom called the other day, and, after saying hi, asked, "Do you know where my turkey baster is?"

After a split-second struggle with a wildly inappropriate joke (I refrained), I said, "Um. No?"

She explained. When she's in my kitchen and she's looking for something specific, she can almost always find it. So our kitchens must be organized the same way. So maybe, she said, if I remembered where my turkey baster was, I could tell her where hers was.

It makes a certain kind of sense.

Unfortunately, she'd already looked in the places I thought of. No dice. When she came over this evening to watch The Bean, I forgot to ask whether she'd found it.

When I got home, though, the stovetop had been cleaned, which I am pretty sure was not Paul's handiwork, and for which I am willing to buy her a new turkey baster every time she loses it for the rest of her days.

And, because I am not over it yet: look what else my image software can do.

I can't believe I didn't know any of these features existed. I'm not even going to tell you how long I've had this program. It's embarrassing.

About That Tooth

It's been quite a while since I mentioned it. I never did get a very good snapshot of it, but Levi did get pictures taken at nine months, and one of them shows it off really well. Here you go.



He now has a tooth and a half - the second of the bottom center two has come in. He seems to suffer the most about 10-14 days before the teeth appear. I gotta say, I hope not all of them come in as hard as these two. We've had some miserable days and fevers up to 104 with each tooth. Yikes.

He's a pretty mobile little dude now - above you can see him motoring across the lawn. He's not walking, but he's trying to let go of stuff and balance, with varying degrees of success. Typically, he lands on his bottom. Yesterday morning, he went over like a tower. Sadness ensued. He'll get it one of these days.

I've actually been knitting a bit, but everything I'm working on is a surprise, so I can't share. Some are for Christmas, and some are for happy events a little sooner than that. (Hint: the latter are very small and soft.)



People keep telling me he's going to hate us for all these bath pictures someday. I'll take my chances. Also, I can tell him with a clear conscience that all those funny hairdos are not my fault. (Auntie, I'm lookin' at YOU.)

Paul goes to an old-fashioned barbershop - red and white pole, inappropriate jokes, and everything - for his haircuts. (I am chicken and won't try a flattop; I'm afraid I'll make his head look funny. Er.) He sort of begged me to let Levi go last time. He was having pictures taken the next day, so I relented. Note that I'm not opposed to barbershops as such. I am opposed to paying for haircuts on tiny people who aren't yet mortified that their mothers cut their hair. (I might even be opposed once they are mortified. We'll see.) Anyway, he went just this once. They had a great time, and I have to admit, his hair looked really nice.



Isn't he cute on his papa's lap in that great big cape? And isn't that a lovely toilet in the background with the seat up? I might need to work on my photo composition.

One last story before I go - a few days ago, the boys went on a walk while I cooked supper. They were going to see the baby chickens, they said. Half an hour later, I get this picture on my cell phone:



Apparently they (I use this term loosely) decided to walk up to the community center next door to us, which has a pond. Nobody was there except two tween* boys who a) wouldn't pay attention and b) couldn't care less anyway, so Paul rolled up his pant legs and the baby stripped off, and in they went.

The pond does not in fact have lovely vivid autumn leaves floating in it this spring. I didn't want to post the original photo and face child pornography charges, so I decided to blur it in my photo editing software. Instead, I discovered a feature that allows you paste random things all over your pictures. I have not wasted any time with this at all. Why do you ask?







The spider one frankly freaks me out more than it should, but who doesn't love a giant donut? Also, don't believe any of the photos you see in the Enquirer. Because we do not really have miniature elephants, even though that would be lots of fun.

*I'm deciding whether to leave that in. It has a specific meaning, but I'm not so fond of the word. I can't decide whether it sounds like Tinkerbell on speed or a painful muscle twitch.