The usual stuff

Y'know... hungry boys, park visits, trips for food, vaccinations, singing songs and, I'm afraid to say, some poop.






Don't cry Martina. Yes, it's The Works. No, it wasn't very good.

Okay. I lie. It was great.





A pensive baby waits for fries.




What!? A bagel for me!

That's goooooooooood.

That's reeeeeal goooooooooooood.

Poised, with jam-face.

Sam,

Sam,

He also likes jam.

Hard-core swingin'.

Two boys on a sunny day.

Sam's working on the stand position. He's not quite there, but he's miles ahead of where Charley was at this age. Maybe he'll walk before the 18 month barrier?

Sam has also reached another milestone. Or, at least, I have. Or! to be even more precise, my boobs have. Yes, it's too much information, but I've retired from the breast-feeding business. I didn't have much choice seeing that we're going away next week, but really! Look at that child! I think he's big enough, old enough and 'teethed' enough to be done. He didn't seem to even notice.


Finally this evening, in the spirit of posting inappropriate material, let me leave you with this. I call it "Number Two Boys".

Yes. Two boys pooping at once. My life is so glamorous. Poor Sam. Working like a little demon! And the mess! (on his tray). That's the mess made from one meal. It's shocking what a dirty baby he is.

And, yes. When Charley has a post-lunch-poop, we all gather 'round, as if he's some kind of warm fire or television show. I have to supervise somewhat, because Charley is fond of peering into the bowl, post deposit, to check the stats. I have to make sure he doesn't fall off, reach in or make a huge mess during these analysis sessions. (Mommy! It's the biggest one ever!!) For some reason, seeing Charley sit on the toilet always garners the sympathy poo-response from Sam.

What can I say?! Take care of all the poop at once, that's my philosophy.

That's quite enough of this line of conversation. Good night.