On My Planet, This is How We Shake Hands

Obviously, it's important, before you eat, to taste the surface on which your food sits. Of course, following that logic (and Max does), it's important to taste the tub where you take your baths; it's important to taste all the clothes you wear; the trees in your yard; the big, fuzzy, dog-shaped thing licking your head.

I've picked up on Max's system for picking clothes by gumming them until wet. Katie and some of the people at work have complimented me on my excellent color coordination and fashion sense the last couple of weeks. While wearing slimey, wet, cold clothes is not entirely comfortable, I figure it's the price you pay for looking good, right?

Dogs Wearing Bandanas

Ok, what is it about babies in hats?
Sometime ago, there was conversation among friends about the fact that there is nothing cuter than a dog wearing a bandana. Heck, a friend of ours has a dog who looks darn good in a bandana. Same bandana, same dog, everyday, I would think to myself: “Damn, that Pepper looks good in that Bandana!”
So, until recently, I was pretty sure that “Dogs in Bandanas” was on top of cute lists all over the world. Now, here’s Max in a hat for the second time and, holy heavens to Betsy, babies in hats are cute! This spectacular sombrero was handmade by our super-talented amiga, currently busy, broadening minds at David Letterman’s Alma Mater.
I can’t quite put my finger on why a hat-wearing baby is so cute. Maybe it follows that if you accessorize a dog/baby/Mini-Cooper properly, it just amps up the cute that’s already there. It’s like the salt of cute. Like a distant aunt’s Easter ham, though, there is such a thing as too much salt. Like the picture of Max in his Frye Booties. That would make your head explode.
Anyhoos, I’ve got half-a-mind (literally! rimshot!) to turn this whole thing into nothing but pictures of Max in hats. “Max in Hats” snappy title, yes? Heck, as long as we’re lowering our common denominators, we’ll make it pictures of Max in hats with puppies

The Head Explodingly-Cute

Tell me: How can this kind of cute not save the world? This is the kind of cute that makes potholes spontaneously fill. It makes broken pottery magically mend. It makes miles melt off your old, beat-up Volvo. It makes all the “Precious Moments” figurines ever poured into a mold, revert back to a bag of powdery Grolleg.
You forget nights spent in the basement, swinging a inconsolable child in a car seat, your ball and socket shoulder joint asking, with each swing, “What did I ever do to you?!” You forget ever worrying about how were going to pay for college/braces/car insurance (although, I’m sure any or all of those three are coming back sometime).
This is the cute about which Madison Avenue dreams, ’cause lemme tell ya: I’ll buy anything this kid is sellin’.

The Best of Times

These are good times to be a parent of The Max Baby. Ol' Maxo can sit up! But, thankfully, Ol' Maxo can't crawl! What that means is you can put Max on his activity mat and do the dishes, put in a load of laundry, or arrange your sock drawer while he sits and plays with his his toys in one spot. It is particularly entertaining to set Max down in the middle of a toy plethora. He sits there and sort of reigns over his colorful minions: "Now I will play with you...you bore me! You! Come here, polka-dotted ball! What flavor are your colors? Gah! Next!"

As I type, Max is sitting on the couch next to me trying to eat the Tivo remote. It is making him very happy, the remote very gooey, and you can see how life can't get much better.

Taking the Reins

Interestingly enough, Max whacking the keyboard until it cries results in posts about as coherent as his Dad's.

Stick the Landing!

Wait for it, wait for it. Max continues his obsession with the jump-up. However, like the greatest Jazz musicians, he starts out the same theme but goes a little bonky on it at the end. This example is not nearly one of his best, however, it is hilarious nontheless. I think Max is saying, "Yo, check it: point and counter-point! Without "not jumping" there is no "jumping". My sudden stop is a stark clarification, a physical representation of movement and stillness." He could be addicted to the theory or he could just do it 'cause his parents fall on the floor, rolling with laughter everytime he does it.

Peas and Carrots on a Stick

Our first visit to the fair with the kid. Max, as we've discussed previously, was relatively unimpressed. Even in the face of Hotdish on a Stick, the boy was nonplussed and somber. Baby Daddy, however, knows when he's in the presence of something spectacular and magical and reacted accordingly.

I have to say, the fair is pretty baby-friendly. It helps, of course, to go early on a seemingly rainy day. I doubt today, in all its absolute perfection would have been fun with a baby-laden stroller. When we went, though, it was pretty mellow. We learned, funnily enough, that a carnie, drunk enough, will let you take your baby on just about any ride. Max loved the thing that shoots you straight up in the air, sling-shot style. Also, he was strangely attracted to the ride on The Midway that has the really bad, huge painting of Tom Selleck as Magnum P.I. on it. Go figure.

As for prizes, the little bugger outdid his old man and very nearly shot all of the red star away with the sub-machine BB gun. Much like Picasso's father, who threw away his paint brushes when he saw his son's raw talent, so did I toss away my roll of tickets once I saw that I would never right a Corona bottle with a fishing pole the way my boy can.

Holding Pattern

So, if you're reading this, you are a stalwart Max-fan checking the old blog (this one), wondering what the hell happened to the new blog (this one). Well, let's just say anti-virus software and a firewall are a blog server's best friends and this particular server had, apparently, no friends. So sad.

Hopefully, the new blog will be back up soon and the action will return over there. Max has, much to our chagrin, not stopped growing and, so, we must continue blogging!