As is the norm these days, we had a busy, stressful week (writing introductions is hard) and a busy, relaxing weekend. New words emerged--"clock" and "bib"--along with a third lower tooth. At least we made time to bathe our offspring.
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| Get thee to a water park |
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| "Again!" |
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| Duckie enacts his dual functions as a temperature gauge and a veil of modesty |
Tor's frequently found zipping around the downstairs on his Pewi "bike" from Oma and Opa:
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| Once both feet can touch down fully, we're in for it |
Last Sunday was so nice out that we accompanied our friends Lindsay, Dave, and Baby Owen on a long walk after lunch at their house. The frozen lake needed some walking on, but we let the menfolk handle that while Tor ran around on the dead winter grass.
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| Dave, Lars, Lindsay, and our yuppie strollers containing our smug children |
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| Rocket bib? Check. Rattle? Check. Let's start this revolution |
Tor continued to hone his spooning skills and chill in the high chair after meals.
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| Huge miscalculation in yogurt removal timing |
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| The sun is the only piece he can actually put in. Yes, because it's round. |
Finally, the boy is clearly developing a sense of self-privilege. (Spoiler alert: he's human!)
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| Sharing his swing with the monkey, but desire is kindling in his breast |
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| "Perhaps you'd be happier over here" |
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| "Eat my bib, simian!" |
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