Day 7: Yet another day when I did not take a picture

But with good reason, again. Graham fell and cut his lip this morning, and honestly, I was too distraught for the rest of the day to even think about picking up a camera. (He's totally fine, and I was way more shaken than he was.) So, here: I don't think I ever posted his take on The Sopranos over on this site...

Bada BING, ya know?

Day 6: recent Graham obsessions

• "reading" books, by which I mean turning the pages as fast as he possibly can (so much so that Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See has been reduced to "brownbearredbirdyellowduck (gasp) greenfrogbluehorsepurplecat (gasp) whitedogblacksheepgoldfish (gasp) teacherchildren!"

• dada. like ALL THE TIME. dada dada dada dada HI HEY dada dada dada. we don't think it's intentional quite yet, but oh man is it cute. especially when joe's face lights up like he has won the lottery or something.

• walking while having his hands held. back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

• and as of today, changes inVOLUME. as in "hey hi dada dada DADA DADA DADAAAAA!"

Day 5: Poop!

Poop! I forgot to take a picture of Graham today, as he was at daycare and then Joe is still not home from work (sad for everyone) and so it was the All Mommy Show this evening. Here - will this suffice?

Poop! Graham pooped in the tub for the second night in a row this evening. I need to put my foot down and say that the tub poop is the worst, most dangerous kind of poop.

Poop! Or rather, un-poop. The un-poop for today is that G's daycare lady said he had his Best Day Ever today...totally content and happy. Sigh. I love un-poop.

Day 4

We went to our polling place early so Graham could vote twice. I wasn't allowed in the booth with him, but I am pretty sure he voted for Senator Breastmilk, who ran on a pretty conservative "No daycare" platform.

Day 3

A little Election Eve dinner theatre with Daddy:


He just told the one about the moose, lipstick, and AK-47 walking into a bar.

Day 2

This look is what usually prompts his dad and I into nonsense talk of the lowest caliber: "Oh, doo-doo head! Who's our little doo-doo biscuit? Are you our Mr. Biscuit Head??" and so on. It's horribly pathetic.

I couldn't resist a photo from today (Day one con't)

It's the little feet, they slay me.