Max and Miles who, to Me, Will Always be Secretly Named "Gus"

The blog about Max and his little brother, Miles. Stunningly cute boys and future leaders of the rebel forces.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

No, it’s not surrealist word-game poetry in your spam-box, it’s Max! I think there’s no better way to celebrate our freedom than streaking. Our fore-fathers had no idea, but subtly written into the sub-text of the constitution (and subsequent admendments (less the 18th, which was the dumbest thing ever)), is the idea of streaking. Second only to the skinny-dip, the streak is the ultimate expression of freedom.
Not ready for the dip or the streak, Max choses the changing table as his soap box. The only thing missing is a sparkler or a bottle rocket, but I would probably go to jail for that.
In baby news: Max rolled from his tummy to his back for the first time today. I have no idea how he did this because I was digging through a box next to the boy, he noticed I wasn’t watching, and went for it.


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