Baby Daddy Smackdown

Once Max gets bored with his toys and things which, by American standards, make up a pretty weak collection, we let him have pretty much whatever he wants. This includes apparently, oven mitts.

As a father, I feel sort of bad about this: I mean, if I'm keeping Max from his doo-dads with the beeps and the boops that'll help turn him into some sort of Mozartian math whiz with excellent social skills, that's, like, wrong, right? On the other hand, being a child of the seventies, I know that hours, hours of fun can be had with a cake pan, a stick, and sheet of cloth (12"x10"), and a piece of plastic picnic plate. People, we had rotary phones and four channels on our TVs.

Anyhoos, here's Max whiling away the days, hand in mitt, rearing back to lay a good one on the old man. I do have to say: the oven mitt may be the only non-toy toy that Max doesn't first hold up to his ear with an,"Ahhhh?" Everything else is assumed to be a phone until proven otherwise.