1 and 1/10 Houses

In an effort to make Max more electable, we're trying to up the number houses we own. Doing this within our budget meant scaling back a little. Max didn't seem to mind. He settled right in. After unpacking his boxes and hanging his art, he took time fix his old man a little something.

After a few minutes of putzing around the old place, Max suddenly appeared in his doorway, "Daddy want Coca-Cola?"

"Uh, sure, Max, I'll have a Coca-Cola. Thanks."

"Max make Daddy Coca-Cola." And he headed back into his casa.

I didn't see any rum or limes in his new house but, somehow, I put on an excited face for my young son.

Max reappeared at the door and held out his hand, "Here, Daddy!"

I thanked him for the Coke, sipped my imaginary drink and was just thankful he didn't quite have the vocabulary to offer me the requisite tour.

Hat is a Ba and Ba is Hat

Do you suppose that being this age is kind of like being really, really buzzed and with a lot of good friends? You're not quite so drunk that you're done making sense but you're whizzed enough to be just a little outside of yourself. You feel safe with your friends and totally unselfconscious so, really, it would make sense that every idea that comes into your head is THE GREATEST AND FUNNIEST IDEA EVER.

In fact, currently, Max is fond of proceeding statements with, "I have idea!" He'll put his hand to his chin or cheek like he's seriously considering something. Usually what follows is not too deep. He'll put his hand down and exclaim, "Max have ice cream bar!"

And, in fact, putting Ba on Max's head like a hat was Katie's idea. Max, though, could not be convinced that it wasn't the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

The rest of the shots from this session are here. If there were a Richter Scale of cute, the needles would be scratching wildly at the top of the paper while nervous scientists gaped in wonder. Proceed at your own risk.

Somebody's Really, Really Ready for Solid Food

So, what? At this pace, he's gonna be into steaks and popcorn by Christmas.

Somebody's Ready for Solid Food

As we know, walking is not so very high on Miles' priority list. Eating, however, is a major preoccupation. Early on, while he was eating, the youngest one would look around and lunge for the closest thing that looked edible. To Miles, this would be, uh, well, everything. The boy won't acknowledge his feet but he'll break your wrist as he uses his body weight to bogart your burrito.

Miles is Ready for his MJQ Audition

Milt Jackson has always been one my faves. He was more of a two-mallet guy. Miles is blowing out the jams with four mallets! It's kinda like how two blades in your razor used to be enough, you know?

Who is this Kid?

While National Night Out '08 (much to Max's chagrin) was not quite like last year's root beer float-soaked vice parade, we still got to see Max become a new Max-like Max.

This is year three for us and the neighbs so uncomfortable silences and awkward pauses are pretty much at a minimum. While we chatted up a storm, Max took about a seven second pause before he ran off with a group of kids. The rest of the evening, we'd see Max, half a block away, throwing a ball, watching some bigger kids do something super-cool or pushing someone in a go-kart. Every so often, he'd run by where we were sitting, wave, "Hi!" And keep going.

Perspective slam: Now, when I was 23, I went to Mexico to take some Spanish classes and I didn't come home for almost two years. There must've been something really wrong with my parents. Extrapolating my feelings about Max two houses away at two and a half years of age over the next 30 years means I'll be ready for him to get on the school bus when he's 19.

He can save this go-kart for when I'm ready for him to drive. . . in 2030!!

Holy Crap! I Have Feet!

If a guy were forced to find the negative attributes of Miles, he might first point to the youngest one's total slacker tendencies. Tendencies most directly evidenced by Miles' lack of desire to stand, jump or generally admit that he has legs at all.

While his cousin, who is just a month older, wows the crowd with her almost walking, Miles leans up against a chair, blows smoke rings, and shrugs with half-lidded eyes that reek of unimpressed boredom. He's like a cat watching a dog do tricks.

Until we snapped this photo, the most Miles would do in the Jump-Up is sway back and forth, the tops of his feet dragging across the floor, Cro-Magnon style. Yesterday, though, he slapped the soles of his feet on the hardwood and gave a couple of half-hearted pumps of his piernas.

Overcome by his exertion, he lolled forward and drooled while he watched his brother watch Curious George.