The difference between moms and dads

It would never have crossed my mind to have a breakfast on the kitchen floor.  

And clearly J knows this by the expression on his face.  

Well, at least the floor had just been cleaned.  

Practicing our spoon skills.

"What?  This is fun."

Apparently when dining on the floor, pants are optional.  C'est la vie.

(Don't worry.  J was wearing pants . . . this time.)

Scout moves in to help with clean up.

Guess who got his ears lowered

Not the best photo but he would not face me to take a picture.

Lest we forget those lovely long locks 

here are some recent photos of the young man:

Just before the neighborhood BBQ

Again, super hip.

Looking like a teenager.  If teenagers used binkies.

Am I the only one who sees the angst and disdain behind those eyes?

That worry ceases when I catch him snuggling with Elmo 

(thank you Uncle Oli and Auntie Kelly).  

Heeheehee.  That tickles.

I need a professional photographer

to follow me around and take fabulous photos of my family. Like tonight. We took a family walk around the block, sans stroller, Scout on leash. At some point Finn ended up between us, each of us holding one of his little hands . So we decided to try out the 1-2-3 swing manuever. The first time we lifted him up just a couple of feet. When we put him down I leaned over and asked "Was that fun?" He replied with a big smile and vigorous head nod. From then on I could hear him murmuring "wee wee wee" every few seconds letting us know that he was ready for another 1-2-3 swing. Each time he went a little higher and Finn giggled more and smiled bigger. Freaking adorable.

What the heck?

Where is my lollipop?

It's time for another hair cut. Which reminded me I never posted pics of the First Hair Cut. Here is Finn flanked by cousins Drew and Matt who, in solidarity, also got a trim. The photos from that day depict mostly anguish and tears. This one is my favorite. No mistaking what he is thinking.

Man, they'll put anything on t-shirt . . .

even J's old car. How did we miss the '68 Chevy Nova onesie? Okay it's off by a few years but that's the old beast we used to have in our driveway. Now I'm gonna hear the whining about why I "made" him give that car away. I'm pretty sure it was his idea to take the tax write-off -- 'cause tax write-offs are cool.

This is how I walk . . .

I make walking look good.  Damn I'm hip.

Moments earlier doing the downward dog/shaking the flip flop off foot maneuver. 

What? You got a problem with me?

You know what, yah, I plan to save those cheerios for later.  Milk mustaches are for sissies.  I call this Yogurt Beard.