Our new hire.

Found him in a Home Depot parking lot. Hired him on to do our dishes. Dude refuses to wear a shirt.

Gracie Allen and George Burns, 1933.

I love this picture.

Our son.

Compliments of his Aunt Ashley. It's been a long weekend.

My Night.

The boy: I want mommy to read me books.
Me: I am not mommy. I am Daddy Robot.
[begin robot noises]
The Boy: I love you Daddy Robot.

I love this dad thing.

Buzz Lightyear: Boy Slave

We will watch this movie, during which time you will feed me clementine orange slices piece by piece. Then you will let me use your laser on some marshmallows and chocolate.



Sitting in LAX, passing the time.

Sigh.

Click to embiggen.

The best part about working at a bar?

Sometimes you'll say something to a regular, something like "Hey, I know you're drunk, but I also know you knit. Could you make my son a Where the Wild Things Are hat? He has a head the size of a cantaloupe." And you say it in passing assuming that they'll forget, but the next day she drops off a bag with a wool, hand-knit cap inside? That's kind of awesome.

Where the Wild Things Sit Still For Their First Movie...

We had a most excellent time. Little man sat still throughout the entire movie, only getting up to move to the front row.

This is our son...

...running the playground. I was told by his teacher that he runs the length of this playground with this wheelbarrow daily, toting bricks from point a to point b and back again. I was told that this happens many times a day.

The picture is not blurred, for this is the speed at which he ran; sound barriers were broken, wind vortexes were created and flames shot up from the ground as his soles left the ground. I attempted to capture it on film for three days straight --hidden in full camo behind the confines of a deer blind-- before a faster shutter speed and some ISO 6400 film got it right.

After witnessing it myself, I ask you this: How does he come home with so much energy!?!?