Young Country getting his twang on. [For the record, we don't listen to country music and neither should you. -Ed.]
The Boy must have inherited my genetic proclivity towards neatness, as lately he's been obsessed with wiping down every surface in the house. Good thing, too, because since he's come into the picture, we haven't properly cleaned the house a single time.
See what I mean? Adorable or OCD? I guess we'll find out. By the way, he insisted on his sleeves being rolled up. Amazing what they pick up from simple observation.
I came into the bedroom one day after hearing Young Old wake up from his morning nap, to find him laughing hysterically at having put this hat on all by himself. It was pretty funny, though I'd imagine you had to be there.
Communing with his [1/64 Cherokee, at this point, I think. -Ed.] ancestors up at Pork & Mike's Country House. Bang them yams, one.
"Yet another escape foiled by that damn waist strap. Sheeee-oooot." And don't knock the "pants tucked into the socks"-look Young Old has going on. Only parents will understand.
This picture is awesome in so many ways as to be mostly indescribable.
A very sick Mama K and Young Old...
...equals a very sick Papa Old and the continuing sickness of Young Old. Nasty flu insectoid knocked us out of commission for damn-near an entire week. There's nothing quite like the personal hell of three family members performing simultaneous projectile vomiting. We had to shit our drawers in shifts, it got so bad. Yuck, is right.
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