Pick Your Role Models Carefully

Gary and I, back in the halcyon days, as nearly jobless eighteen year-olds spent a summer or two sleeping until noon; watching our soap opera; going water sking; eating; sking some more; then staying up 'til 2am and repeating, would unironically look at Gary's dog, Chester, sleeping in the shade and sigh, "Man, wouldn't it be great to be a dog?"

No doubt, Max, wee little sponge that he is, has caught on that there's something to this "dog's life" thing. I mean, playing with the mixer and walking around with Blankie going "Doo-dee-doo" is all well and good but that's, like, work. Better then, Max says, to begin emulating the dog early. And what better place to begin than the place where Frankie spends most her time: dog bed.

Also, it's so freaking cute, it'll make your ears bleed.

Bonus points to me for writing this post without mentioning potty training Max with rolled up newspaper whacks.

The Cup is Half Full

Now, see, some folks, half-empty type-folks, would look at this picture and see a not-so-nice person from world history. I won't even tell you about the odd goose-stepping that Max has been doing lately: that would make you nervous. Thankfully, the bad taste walking did not cross paths with the questionable taste moustache. Other people, looking at Max's facial accoutrement, maybe half-full people, would see a charming Chaplin-esque hero from The Tramp or Modern World, that kind of thing.

Me, personally, I'm diggin' the goatee. So I'm thinking my mud-eating baby is going for a beatnik, be-bop thing:: Kerouac, Ginsberg, this guy. That's my boy: snappin' his fingers, sitting on the back of a flat bed as it coasts down the west side of the Rockies. . . in the dark. Let's leave out the cigarettes and the malaria.

No matter what you think of the historical references Max's 'stache is making, it's way less threatening after he eats a big hunk of blue chalk, no?

He Seemed Like Such a Normal Baby

There was something in the water 'round these parts. Max made a breakthrough with one of his toys. He finally figured out that his crazy, noisy, Ikea roll-y thing-y was good for more than just rolling back and forth while he stands in one spot. 'Ol Max spent the morning walking from one end of the house to another dragging what is, essentially, a little barrel of colorful, wooden hammers. He was quite pleased with himself: thwacka-da, thwacka-da, thwacka-da, thwacka-da, thwacka-da, thwack!

It was a beautiful, normal day with the fabulous boy. Suddenly things took a turn for the surreal:



My preferred interpretation of this is that he's a creative genius testing alternative transport methods for green balls with nubbies and not just a crazed, ball-eating maniac.

Where's Homer's Brother when You Need Him?

Delving even deeper into geek-hood here: somewhere in all the books we had to stash away when Max started walking (he liked to pull the big art books onto himself) would be this one. In that book would be a page that would tell me Homer Simpson's lost-lost brother's name (I do remember him being voiced by Danny Devito). It would would tell me the episode number, funny quotes, writers, director, everything. But I'm not getting up to look this stuff up. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

What is important is that, in that episode, Homer's brother invents a machine to translate baby babbles and cries. It would come in handy about now. It might explain why the boy is obsessed with Perrier bottles.

A Dream Within a Dream

Auntie Allie and Uncle (now official) Luis done gone and done got hitched over Memorial Day Weekend. The wedding was a gorgeous blast. The weather was perfect; everybody looked great but, really, let's be honest: brides aside, nothing tops a baby in a seersucker suit.


For those of you who can't get enough of weddings and the cute kids who attend them, check here for a full selection of Max nuptial fun fun. Included are snaps of Max, seemingly inspired by all the love in the air, makin' time with a mysterious blonde. Apparently, kids woo by regarding each other warily, showing each other their current favorite toy (stick I just found, ball), and then just sort of walking off together.

Ah, innocence, fleeting innocence.

As if there weren't Enough Distractions

I was about to write a new, hilarous, insightful post about Max. Then, Father Hammann sent me a link to Offsprung and I dissapeared into a kaleidoscope of baby comedy. Just so we're all clear, though: before Knocked Up, before Hamanneggs, before Offsprung, there was only one dad writing funnily about his baby on the whole internet tubes. . . me! Me and about 500,000 sort of funny guys.

Anyway, check out Offsprung. It's spectacular.

And before you jump ship to them, here's a reminder of why you really come here.

The First Time Went so Well

We figured, "Why not?" Expected arrival sometime in November. If this artist's representation is at all accurate, I'm very excited: the next kid will have Katie's eyes! However, I've also been informed that if the baby actually looks like this, she'll kill me. So, I guess, if posting gets a little light after November, you'll know how the kid turned out.

KNOCKEDUPBABYMAKER.COM...because making babies is fun.