Court Mandated Blogging

Mother has ordered me to post this picture of Miles. I did not want to post this picture. I know how important your brains are to all of you and I know what can happen when you are exposed to cuteness of this magnitude: MELTED! Whatever's left of your gooey gray matter can send your crayon-scrawled brain-replacement coupons addressed to "Mommy of Miles". Remember: I was trying to protect you!

Style Points

It now appears that, for Miles, the issue was not necessarily the walking, but the spectacularity with which you walk once once you can. When you think about it, it totally makes sense: Why do anything unless you can do it with a balloon in one hand and pickle-stogie hanging from your mouth?

Victor Max-o

There are many, many, many, MANY night time rituals that must be performed before Max gets into bed. And by "gets into bed", I mean "sits in his chair and reads for an hour". So, amidst the singing of the songs and the brushing of the teeth and the running to the fridge for a glass of water: "I'll get the water, daddy, you get the ice!" (He got hit in the face, once, by ice avalanching out of the dispenser.), packed in that is "the stuffing of the blanket".

So, at some point, Max and his Mom decided that the best time to play wacky games before bedtime would be while dad his most heart-felt rendition of "Van Diemen's Land". So, while I'm spilling my singing guts, Max and Katie find new and hilarious ways to ignore my great song-craft. One of the primary tools during the hilarity and dis-regarding is blankie: tug of war with blankie; making a hat with blankie; and, most importantly, pretending you're pregnant with blankie. Max thought it was hilarious when his mom would stuff the blankie under her shirt and say, "Oh, niiice baby." Then, it was more hilarious when Max would grab the blankie and pull it out saying, "No! That's my baby!" It wasn't long before this morphed into just Max carrying the blankie baby. And, of course, the truly insane comedy happens when you put the baby on your back. So, what do you do when you have a kid giving himself a hump on his back with his blankie? This, of course:
If you can see through the crappy video quality, notice he's carrying a bunch of books. That's the final ritual: after songs and teeth brushing and everything, the boy has to get up, run across the house, gather up books from a storage spot not in his room and carry them to his room. Then, folks, and only then, are you ready for bed.