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, January 23, 2007

Just Passin' By!

Last time we had Max mess with his walker, he ended up doing a face plant that gave him some nice coloration on his schnoz just in time for Thanksgiving. Now, though, the boy is hindered only by walls, dog dishes, chairs and anything else in his path.

This is crazy: a week ago, we were pumped that he was getting up and down and now he's just toolin' all over the house.

Sunday, January 14, 2007

How to Know When You're Crazy In Love with Your Baby

This holiday season, the cards we sent out looked a lot like this. Now, if you didn't get one, it doesn't mean we don't love you. It just means that our hands became malformed and useless after cutting out loads and loads of Max heads and Santa hats for the Max heads. Katie wants to make the whole Max-head thing a series. After this Christmas, I think we're going to farm the head cutting-out to China.

Anyhoos, the point here (and I've been meaning to tell you this), is that we'd be sitting here, cutting out Max heads; cutting out Max Santa hats; cutting out the fuzzy stuff for the brims and the tassles; we'd be up late cutting and gluing all these things together. After awhile, you'd have a stack of Santa Maxes ready to attach to cards. It was a little deck of Max head cards. And, I don't know what it is (well, I do know what it is) but, no matter what, we would look at every Max head and laugh every time at each one. You'd attach a fuzzy tassle and it wouldn't matter that your hand was cramping into a balled-up fist of pain. there was a little Santa Max, laughing up at you: "Hey you! Isn't life great? Happy Holidays!"


Giving you what you want, that's what we're all about.

That to Which You are Reduced, Part II

Previously, we have seen the lengths we to which we once went to keep the kid happy. Now (and there's way more incriminating pictures and videos that have never been taken or you'll never see) it's kind of a fun game to see what'll make Max laugh.

The fun thing about him standing in his crib is, in the morning, when you know he's awake and he's just chillin' in his crib (and, by crib, I mean crib) if he's standing, he's very happy. So, we walk past his door, pause and listen to him coo-ing and ah-ing, smile and wait for him to get a little more would up before we go in.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Screamin' Development

"We need to lower his crib mattress," Katie said. "He's going to be standing up in there one of these mornings."

You can see where this in going. Max has been pulling himself up on the coffee table, the vacuum, the couch, anything that stays in place well enough to counter-balance boy as he stands up. He's also developed a wild, sitting-up move so fast and smooth he seems like some sort of infant break dancer. After we moved the mattress down to a level where a standing baby wouldn't be able to climb out, we walked into Max sitting up:

The next morning, like a fish that grows in a larger aquarium, we say good morning to this:

Won't be long before he's asking for the car keys.

The Puff Era

So, we've moved into a whole new phase of life with Max. He's now an emotional force with whom you must, on some level, bargain. He's not a little baby tyrant or anything. In fact he's the opposite. The majority of time (and I'm not exaggerating because other, less biased people will confirm) words you would use to describe Max are: mellow, tolerant, playfully curious, easy-going, angelic. . . ok, I threw in angelic myself). However, now, if you need to get something done, you can pretty much plop Max down where ever and ply him with puffs. Jumper for twenty minutes? Sure, Max says, where are my f'n puffs? Kitchen floor for ten minutes? Sweet Potato Puffs! Now!

I'm not entirely comfortable with the bribery aspect of all this but, I guess, you just do what you gotta do. You have to get dressed for work at some point and the activity mat with the Whoosit no longer enchants Max for hours at a time.

Puffs: it's the new baby currency.

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

I Could Get Used to this Gluttony Thing

It's Harder Than You Think to Take a Picture of a Baby and a Christmas Tree

The Holidays are finally over and so it's time to post some of the aftermath. I kept on trying to get the absolute iconic image of Max and the tree. It's tough, though, you know? If you use the flash, you don't get the glowing little lights illuminating Max's face all full of wonderment and anticipation of his new stuff hand delivered by Senor Kringle. If you don't use the flash, you get grainy, fuzzy pictures of a baby-shaped blob near an army of green hot dogs. We spent a few days trying to get this shot, then the actual holidays were upon us. Anyway, here's Max and his first tannenbuam.

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