Does not compute.

Ms. "I would probably eat my own young" chillin on the couch with Daniel-Son (heh heh. It works on so many levels....) here.

There are some potential explanations:

- The apocalypse is near.

- They're conspiring against me.

- Breakfast cookie proximity was sufficient for Stella to risk bodily injury.

- She was trying to smoke him out, as I later heard "Dewwa! You tooted! Dat's tinky.".

I don't trust them. Hmm...

The many faces of Inmate Genevieve.

Awwww...


Tee hee.


Heh heh heh heh.


Ha!


Haaaa ha ha!


Haaaaaaa ha ha ha! (beats fist on table)


Wow.

Ah, the mind of a three year old.

The other day we were reading a book and Payne described the following picture as such:

"Dis a picture of a mouse putting a swing (string) in a bassek (basket) and he getting some pop corns!"

Man, I love their little brains, all free of the bindings of conventional knowledge and stuff.


Some more of his little sayings that make me remember how cute he can be:

- "My want to wear it on!"

- "Gee-vive! You're kiwwing (killing) me!" as in, she's being annoying. Who do you think he learned that from? Hmm...

- "Mommy, I put dat dere for a weason."

Three has been rough on us, but Lordy do I love this kid.

The reason we do a lot of pony tails.

Baby G has some awesome morning hair:


She still has the, uh, lift that she had as a newborn, and her hair is so fine that she has a natural feathering thing going on.

Add the volunteer center part in there:



And you've got....



So, if it were 1977 and Genevieve was, you know, a dude? We'd be good to go.

She's going to punish me for this post at some point in the distant future, isn't she...

My Son is a Klutz.

His legs and arms are a constellation of bruises and scratches. He still has a goose egg or light scar from a recent cut on his head most of the time. He is quite simply a walking disaster.

On his first birthday he looked like he'd lost a fight. Up until age two he had a split lip or a wound from biting himself while falling the majority of the time. At two he ran directly into a support column at the zoo. He was running full speed in one direction and looking in another. Bam. His arms even swung forward at impact, just like on Looney Tunes. For awhile I just assumed his propensity for self injury was normal. I mean, it took 4.599 billion years of planetary history for a bipedal organism to really nail the concept of walking upright. Who am I to judge my toddler for still being a little shakey on the concept?

Now I'm having to face reality. The poor child is definitely more accident and injury prone than his peers. He straight up falls out of chairs, while sitting relatively still. At this point its hard not to laugh when it happens, because one minute his shaggy little head is visible above the table, and then it's just...not. A couple of days ago he was very simply walking across the hardwood barefoot, and his feet (in a true display of defiance towards ordinary laws of physics) went straight out from under him and he fell HARD straight down onto his butt. A lot of the time he'll be running behind me while we're out and about, and I'll hear him fall. It goes something like "tap tap tap tap tap tap tap SPLAT (extended pause) waaaaaah! Mommyyyyyyyy!" and really, "splat" is pretty much dead on. It's like he takes a flying leap and his entire body hits the tile/pavement at the same instant.

Oh, and my own personal favorite. Yesterday, he ran into the garage door as it was opening...backwards. He blindly clotheslined the back of his neck with a large noisy moving target. That takes a true gift.

Genevieve is ten months old,

and she has a pretty new dress to show for it!

Heh heh. Her first curtsey...

She is turning into such a little person.  Baby G has four teeth, is pulling up to standing, going from laying down to sitting up on her own, and has taught herself how to crawl on hands and knees, although she still prefers an army crawl.  She insists on eating what we eat, and rarely allows us to even break it into smaller pieces anymore.  Her favorite foods are french fries and super processed white bread, like hot dog buns etcetera. Yes, I'm an early childhood nutritional god. Bow to my superior parenting.

(Clears throat)

I decided to take a photo of her doing the same thing that Payne was doing in his 10 month photo, so here is the comparison:

Squeeeeeeee! Look at the tiny Payne!

She looks like a toddler now.

(sigh)

Kids are weird. An exhibition:

He was walking up to the baby toy on the couch, pushing a button so it would play music, walking back to his "seat", and clapping when the music finished, over and over again.



He only wants to be in a photo if he wasn't the intended subject matter...



Payne spends more time in the playpen than Genevieve does. This is entirely voluntary.


Bench seats are for babies. Real men squash themselves into available cargo space.


She has no interest in toys, unless they happen to be in her brother's room.


Really?

(FYI. It's not Genevieve's fault her ensemble is a little whacked here. I tucked her dress into her bloomers so she could crawl around.)

And the finale. I walked by Payne's room at 10:30 at night to find this:


Alright. Who has been teaching my kid the finer points of dorm room etiquette?! THERE WILL BE BLOOD.