Sledding

Gavin's "bed"

I have been traveling again so my blogging has been getting a bit bogged down.  (How is that for my English major use of alliteration)?  I was fortunate to find my way to New Orleans a few weeks ago and Chicago last week.  Carrie was able to join me for a day while in Chicago at the tail end of my conference and Quinny got to stay on the farm with his Iowa grandparents.  Neither snow, nor sleet nor hail...well maybe the snow.  The night before Carrie was supposed to take the nearly four hour drive it snowed roughly four inches.  It was just enough to wreak a little havoc on the roadways and give the wife some second thoughts. She was in the car with baby OG so getting stranded wasn't the best of options.  I'm not sure if you've ever driven from Iowa to Chicago but there is approximately one giant truck stop (the world's largest complete with movie theatre I'm told) and that's about it.  It's like the drive from Vegas to Los Angeles but a bit on the cooler side, at least during winter with signs that say 47 miles to the next gas station.  You can practically feel the vultures circling overhead.  But the sirens of Chicago were calling, and Carrie had already dropped the dog at her Aunt and Uncle's and Quinny was all taken care of.  The bags were packed, the car was gassed up and she was determined.  So off she went. 

She made it and in record time if you are rooting for the turtle.  She has to stop to feed Gavin and burp him and get Starbucks and go potty and well, it took a wee bit longer than expected, which as it turns out was fortunate it for our credit cards. The hotel was just a stone's throw from the Magnificent Mile as in one whole mile of shopping paradise.  We aren't talking Target here but Nordstrom's, Tiffany's and Cartier.  It's the sort of place that men dream of their wives window shopping and wives dream of their men being richer so they can blow more coin on diamonds, even in a recession a girl's best friend.

It did afford us a nice evening out at a deliciously decadent restaurant where we filled our stomachs with a meal to remember.  I believe my wife referred to it as a Christmas present within itself.  And you thought those dates, I mean trips to McDonald's wouldn't pay off.  Ha!  You set the bar low enough when it gets raised, it's like fireworks.  Just a night out without seeing a finger pointing and a mouth going "eerrrnnn, errrrneernnn."  That's 2 year old whine talk for guess what I want every three minutes?  It sounds really cute and maybe at your house it is but at ours it's like dude, use your words!!  When they can't talk and they are wailing and wailing you just wish they could tell you what the issue is. Then they get old enough and can talk and they grunt their way through life.  Seriously, we need a medal of some sort.  Oh, right expensive night in the big city.  It's the same thing.  Would you believe we made a reservation for 9:30.  PM! Yes, bed time.  We went out on the town at bed time.  And man, did we need that.  It was great.  We had a great evening out and then on the short walk home in the lit up city of Chicago, next to the river it began to snow.  If someone would've taken our baby we might have contemplated having one.  Oh, wait we have two. And that's why we were in Chicago.  Do you see how these things happen?

Upon arriving back to Cedar Rapids we found my car and sent Carrie on her way to the farm.  I headed back to the house to assume shoveling duties.  Santa, please, please, pretty please with sugar on top deliver me a monster snow blower.  I don't think I have any chance at all making it through the season without purchasing one.  It's like a Mexican standoff.  I keep looking at my driveway, the price tag, the driveway, the price tag and well you can understand where the standoff comes in.  I missed my best years of shoveling.  I don't recall this exactly but I am fairly certain during my high school years my father had a snow blower exempting me from cruel and unusual punishment so the last time I shoveled was when I was what? 10-12 years old.  From that point I was fortunate enough to live in that humid, warm jungle others refer to as Florida.  Did you know I still own a house there?  Or I was a renter when some other person shoveled for me.  So, at the ripe old age of let's say for blogger's sake I'm 25 I am picking up a shovel for the first time.  Now, I am a fairly competitive person and being such would like to shovel better than anyone in my immediate vicinity, but my own self assessment says I suck at shoveling.  Is it possible to have an awful technique translating into ice packs and Advil by the handful?  I mean can I stink at shoveling that bad?  I think I do.  And then I look at the price tag again.  Really?  Snow blowers are like daycare.  You're, well, you're just getting screwed my friend. 

And then I look, well actually I don't, but it is all anyone talks about.  You know the weather.  So I attend a Christmas party on Sunday.  Did you know we're supposed to get four more inches on Monday?  No, I didn't. Is this party open bar?  Sheesh!  Does it really have to snow every three days?  I would much prefer 12 inches at once every two weeks.  It's far more efficient.  So my crappy technique is out there every three days.  What's the date?  December?  People tell me it snows in April.  That's a joke right? 

The kid likes cooking or rather snacking

Well, the blog was about sledding and all this great snow has provided some father son activity so Quinny and I decide to go sledding on Saturday.  I strap on my kicks, because I only own three pairs of shoes (7 pairs of flip flops), mummify Quentin in his snowsuit and off we go into the winter wonderland.  It turns out, similar to Lucky, he's sort of afraid of snow.  He doesn't quite know what to think.  He knows he's not walking in that white stuff without holding dad's hand - for the entire time we were outside.  He wouldn't get in the sled without me getting in first and then well, then he enjoyed himself all the way to the bottom of our 14 degree drop of a hill (approximately 4 seconds).  At that point he wanted me to hold his hand as we made our way back up to the top of the hill and repeat.  I have snow in my shoes, socks, pants, etc., etc., etc. but I had bonding.  And really, it's about bonding.  The whole time we are "sledding" he wants to do what?  Well, he wants to shovel of course.  That's just great.  I only stink at at few things.  I mean really stink and he wants to do one of those activities.  "Dad, dad, shobel? Shobel dad! Let's shobel dad! C'mon we can shobel together."  Ahh.  But dude, "dad doesn't want to shobel. Not even a liddle bit."  It's too much.

14 pounds, 12 of which is in his cheeks

Upon heading inside I found out junior number two isn't so shrimpy anymore.  At his two week appointment he was in the 25th percentile.  Well, at two months he graduated into the 95th percentile. Atta boy! He was a whopping 14 pounds, a little over double his birth weight.  Quinny went along for the ride and weighed in at 34 pounds.  Hmm, do you think it's too early to send them out shobeling?  So we have two healthy and growing boys.  Quinny, we discovered today is getting his two year molars. That may explain a few things.  I can already see him getting braces.  He's growing up so fast! I "caught" him singing his ABC's.  I'm not sure what age those things start but he has a toy that sings and he was totallly singing along.  I was astonished.  Where is that number to Guinness?  Claery, this must be a prodigy we were blessed with!  It's crazy. 

Here are a few pics of Quinny sledding a couple of weeks ago when the four inches every few days began.

A Chill in the Air

First time in a snow suit!

It's a bit chilly here this morning.  It's so cold that when I opened the door to let the dog outside he peered out the door letting the sub zero air touch his whiskers and froze in his tracks.  He looked outside, he looked at me, he looked outside and back at me.  After about 45 seconds it dawned on him that nature calling was stronger than nature's blowing wind.  He didn't waste much time finding his "spot" though and sprinted back inside, all four legs in the air like a greyhound.  He's a bit older and presumably wiser, turning 21 last week. He's legal!  It's so windy outside that our home is making noises less than natural.  When the wind really kicks up (60 MPH gusts) it whistles loudly in an extremely high pitch.  It woke me up around 1:30 last night and I searched the house for the noise.  To no avail.  You could actually feel the wall our bed is perched against shaking.  Our fireplace fire was blown out twice.  Is that safe?  The good news is it's a cross wind and all the snow we got was blown off the driveway into the neighbors down the street.  So even though it's minus whatever outside I won't be braving windchills where no man has gone before but instead watching the Packers battle the Lions in an indoor stadium.  The metrodorm (Vikings) roof actually collapsed last night under the weight of 17 inches of snow.  Collapsed is a bit of a misnomer as the roof is kept at its height because air blows it up.  More accurately a tear developed, the air escaped and it collapsed.  Ironically the game was already cancelled and moved because the visiting Giants had their flight diverted from the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport due to its closing to Kansas City and are still stranded there now.  In case anyone was wondering it's 68 with some light rain in Tampa this morning.

We had such an awful night on Friday night we had Carrie's parents come get Quinny for the day.  With the sudden turn in the weather here he is essentially stranded up at their cabin in the back 40 in northern Iowa.  You have to carry a weather radio around with you in this state just to keep up.  We are definitely not used to that.  We made use of our time to head to a friend's house for dinner (in the middle of an ice storm).  It was the first night out we've had in a long, long time.  We had a good time and it was nice to visit with some local friends.  The night before Quinny was up at 10:45, 1, 1:30, 2:45, 3:30, and got up at 5:25.  Parenthood is so awesome.  Saturday morning no one had slept and that makes for a tough family dynamic.  No one had any patience for anyone else.  I decided to take the dog for a walk to blow off some steam.  Stinky took off on me and as it was raining/snowing out so he dumped me right on my duff.  Oh, I wasn't too pleased with that scenario.  He got me good.  The last thing I saw was my Adidas over my head and down on my arm I fell with a distinct thud.  The "lucky" dog is fortunate I didn't break an arm or our kid wouldn't have been the only one going to the farm.  So, I'm soaked, full of mud and really fired up now with a good quarter mile to blow off some more steam. I needed a marathon. 

What does one do when they really need to relax?  Well, they of course decide it's time to put up the Christmas lights outside.  Four increasingly frustrating trips to Menard's later we officially have our lights up.  I didn't even bother to see if they would turn on when I left.  I set up the timer and got in the car.  If I did it right they would be on when we came home.  I couldn't take any more failures for the day.  What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger right?  I was about to put that theory to the test.  As we rounded the corner to our block last night you couldn't see the lights.  I was already half way through the, "You've got to be kidding me..." speech when we drove past the house and there in all the snowy windy glory was our non-obnoxious but tastefully thrown together in freezing temperatures with four trips to Menard's and hundreds of dollars in more lights needed than anticipated lighted display of Casa de Iowa.  Shazam!  It took until 10 pm at night but we had our first win in 36 hours.  We could now go to bed. 

Not quite sure what to think of the big guy.



Enjoying a hot toddy!



Here are a few pics of the kids meeting Santa last week at an extended family Christmas celebration.  Translation:  there were 50 people there and I knew 8.  Did you know in Iowa people know who their third cousins are!  Really?  I can't even figure out what branch equates into a third cousin in the family tree.  It's nice to have a big family, but if these kids don't start sleeping we're stopping at seven instead of the eleven Carrie has her heart set on.  And maybe even six. I see a lot of grey hairs these days.

It's my birthday!

Quentin celebrated his second birthday yesterday but before we get into that we need to address the ice falling from the sky outside.  Yes, it's snowing.  It's exactly how I remember seeing it too.  It's cold.  It's windy and snow in real life looks exactly like the white stuff on TV.  We used to make fun of those people shoveling out in the cold as we watched from our couch clad only in our flip flops and shorts basking in the 80 degree sunshine.  Now, we are those people.  I guess that's irony, payback or karma.  Take your pick.  All I know is I keep looking at my driveway and I keep looking for a snow blower and back to the driveway and hello Mr. Snow blower?  Where are you?  Um, Santa, if you are listening...  I wasn't a math major but the driveway looks like an acre to me.  I might actually have to buy a shovel soon.  I am holding out hope some neighbor kid will stop by and do the whole thing for $5.  C'mon on neighborhood kid!

Enough about the weather.  It could turn out to be a balmy 65 tomorrow and maybe it will all melt before our 5 am wake up call.  Seriously, it could happen.  Quinny had his big bash on Saturday to coincide with the Badgers putting down another whooping on a Big Ten opponent.  I won't even brag about how it was the second most successful offensive output in the history of the Big Ten in a single season.  In case anyone was wondering Quinny was kind enough to break out the 19 inch black and white TV for the Iowa game in the basement for any fans that wanted to watch the mighty, well that may be the overstatement of the year, Hawkeyes lose to the Gophers. So it goes.  There was a lot of "next year" talk. Or was it next century?  

I digress. Unfortunately the Spiegelhoff clan was feverish and unable to make the trip.  If the fever breaks and that appears to be a pretty big if right now they will come down this weekend to celebrate.  Carrie's family was nicely represented with Grandma's and Grandpa's, Great Grandma's and Grandpa's, aunts, uncles and several cousins.  We had a full house to celebrate the big 0-2.  

For the first time Quinny really enjoyed opening up his gifts (plural).  The first thing he opened was a recorder.  You remember, like the one they gave you in music class when you were six.  It took him a few minutes to figure it out but then we had are very own Zamfir.  Don't even tell me you don't own some Zamfir CD's.  He's like Michael Bolton.  You won't admit it, but he's in your collection.  Even after mastering the recorder he still managed to open up gifts.  Usually he just falls in love with the first one and loses interest in the remaining gifts.  He received a soccer goal that encourages you to shoot accurately and "Score!"  This is a creative way to get that kicking under control.  No more kicking Lucky - hopefully. He received some books, cars, a sweet dump truck construction vehicle, a fire station, X-mas PJs, CD's and a shiny new Radio Flyer red bike. 

I thought he would be able to pedal the bike but no such luck.  It's adjustable so he can grow with it and he's much too big for the closest setting so that's not the issue.  We wanted one with a low center of gravity after reading reviews about two year olds taking tumbles.  I'm not one of those wussy parents.  I'm all for skinned knees and falling off bikes.  Helmets?  Really?  I mean we never had helmets and somehow managed to survive but I figure if today they build a better mouse trap than let's go with that one.  Well, the reviews forgot a crucial part.  Someone has to push that two year old while "riding" his new bike.  In that regard a low center of gravity equals Christmas at the Chiropractor.  Yowsers!  Of course he loves the thing and wants to ride in it every free moment, which means I'm 18 inches off the ground pushing him all over tarnation.  Being father of the year is not as easy as it looks. I am really really trying to get him to pedal.  "Just push with your legs buddy.  Yup, here, let me push your knees.  Got it?  What?  No, no, push with your legs.  Oh, man!?  Dude, c'mon just pedal.  You got it.  No?"  Hopefully he'll pick it up soon or I'm going to need back surgery.  One way or the other I guess the problem will be solved.  It is shiny.  For Christmas I think he needs a little bell or horn to go on the handle bars and maybe some streamers. 

After the gift opening we moved on to the monkey cake.  Carrie has a friend that made it and they did an excellent job.  It was the spitting image of the napkins, plates and balloons.  It took the Qster a few minutes to warm up to the singing but once his name was inserted it was all smiles and he was loving the attention.  He didn't know how to blow out the candles but after a few tries he blew it out.  He then pounded several pieces of cake.  He wasn't too interested in the ice cream, but loved the cake.  After that the Badgers wrapped up their Rose Bowl bid scoring 70 on Northwestern (that's a shame!) the guests filed out leaving Q to his new gifts to play with.

Since Saturday wasn't his actual birthday Carrie kept him home from school on Monday.  Who goes to school on their birthday?  Kids, tell you parents it's a national hooky day.  He started by getting up at 1am.  Yup!  One doesn't want to waste time when it's their birthday for only 24 hours.  I didn't fall asleep until after midnight so I was out cold.  By the time I woke up he was screaming bloody murder.  He was just screaming at the top of his lungs, "DADDY, DADDY, DAAAAAADDDDDDYYYYY!!!!!"  I got over there and I couldn't figure out what his deal was. After about 20 minutes I took him into our bed where he "hung out" for the next two hours "trying" to fall back asleep.  Around 4 he hit the sack and that screwed me up so I woke up super late for work and sprinted out of the house so I didn't get to give him a good happy birthday good bye.  After lounging the early morning hours away Carrie made him some pancakes with candles.  At this point he's getting pretty good at blowing them out. 

After breakfast Carrie tried to get him dressed.  He wasn't into that.  Nope, he decided he was going to wear his doggie jammies all day.  By the time I got home from work he's still sporting the doggie PJ's.  Carrie whipped up turkey dish number 417 so we had a little family feast for dinner.  This bird just won't die!  Of course we had to sing happy birthday again with the left over cake.  By this point Quinny was really into blowing out the candle.  I must have lit that thing six or seven times.  "I did it! One more! One more!"  Overall we had a great birthday.  It was nice to spend it with family and I think he really enjoyed it.  This morning he was still wearing the same PJ's.  Into the wash they went.  He finally took them off.

Here are a few pics from the birthday bash. 

Happy Turkey Day!

We hope everyone had a glorious Thanksgiving.  We had a lot to be thankful for this year, most notably the birth of our second healthy boy, Gavin.  Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  How can it not be everyone's?  We had enough food to feed a small army, football galore and good company to enjoy the day with.  Carrie's family came down to join us this year.  Earlier in the week Carrie and I had one of our good friend's in town from California to spend a few days with before the festivities kicked off.  Blake was in our wedding and probably knows the two of us as a couple best because he was my Florida roommate while Carrie and I were dating.  He saw the ups and downs and had numerous opportunities to play pre-marriage counselor.  It was great having him back at our house not only to play child psychologist this time but to have a beer or two and reminisce about the Florida days.  It brought back a lot of great memories of Carrie, Blake and I in our early years.  I think it was a trip for him too, to see us with two kids, a dog and living in full domestication.  It was a lot different from, "I can't believe she's upset I was up until 4 am playing poker on Tuesday.  What's the big deal?"  Ha!  (He's a professor and was earning his PhD at the time so he and I kept a little different hours than we do today).

Blake took off Thursday morning to spend the holiday with this his family in Madison.  We may reunite if the Badgers hold on and earn a trip to the Rose Bowl in January.  Before he left we were up early to begin the cooking and baking.  Carrie knocked out an apple pie before 8:30 in the morning.  We had taco dip, cleary a pilgrim favorite, an assortment of cheeses (habanero was my favorite) and who could have Thanksgiving without deviled eggs? for appetizers.  After chowing down our apps we had dinner which consisted of our 20+ pound bird, Grandma Spiegelhoff's stuffing, smashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, strawberry salad, sweet potatoe pie, seven layered salad, and of course cinnamon dinner rolls.  Needless to say we were stuffed.  We napped the afternoon away watching a futile Dallas team blow yet another disappointing game.  One more thing to be thankful for I suppose. 

The boys were great and even Brett behaved himself this year.  Gavin slept like a baby in his high chair through dinner and Quinny was stuffing his face with both hands.  Kids are so great.  They do the things everyone wants to do.  The fact that they have no inhibition can be both frustrating and envious at the same time.  At the dinner table stuffing thanksgiving into your pie hole two hands at at time, well, that falls under the envious category.  Good for him.  He's kept that up in subsequent days as we move through the leftovers.  Quinny has been helping us edging closer and closer to the 6 am wake up call.  By Christmas when we hit the road and get him off his schedule he'll be sleeping until 7 right before we start the cycle all over again.

We hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!  Here are a few pictures of Gavin in his first Thanksgiving outfit, the boys and the family finishing up before the feasting can ensue.

Dancing Spectacular

After living here for approximately five minutes Carrie entered a drawing through the local paper to see Radio City Music Hall's Christmas Spectacular featuring the Rockettes.  Wow, that's a mouthful.  We had seen the show once before in Tampa and anyone that knows me knows that I love anything with singing and dancing in it.  I just had to go again!  We won four tickets in the front row of the balcony section so we had plenty of space to spread out. We picked up the kiddos and headed downtown for the show.  The performance lasted about 90 minutes.  Quinny lasted about 55 minutes.  After that first hour passed he had seen enough dancing for one day.  He leaned over and whispered into my ear, "Dad, if you've seen one high kick you've see them all."   It took cookies, a patient dad and lost of whispering to get him to muscle through the rest of it.  He did enjoy the theatre type seat that folds up on its own.  He just can't sit still for that long.  He had only been to the Dancing Bear show at Disney, which maybe lasted 20 minutes so we weren't sure if he would make it to begin with.  He kept talking or rather wondering (aloud) where "fill in the blank" went.  "Dad, Dad! Where did the stars go? It's dark! Moon! Moon! Moon!  Ba-bye Santa!"  And so on.  Not sure if the people around us thought it cute or annoying.  I guess that's the nice thing about living in the Midwest.  People are too nice to let you know.  Gavin made it through without incident.  The show itself wasn't as long or good as the one in Tampa.  I would think it would be the same but I guess size of arena and such maybe make that impossible.  The Tampa one had live animals including camels.  This one, well, not so much.  The tickets were worth over $200 and we were glad we didn't pay for it.  That seems like a lot to see some high kicks.  Quinny did get some kicks in so that was fun for the folks sitting behind us. I think I would like to see the one in New York next time.  It was a one day show and it was nice that Q was able to see the Santas. They do a number with maybe 25 Santas out there busting a move.  Quinny was shaking his booty.  He was shakin' it on down.

We are doing a little bit better in the sleep department. Quinny is sleeping in until 5:15 most mornings but there is usually one day a week where both boys cooperate and we maybe get 4 hours of sleep in a row.  Hooray! Quinny is inching his way towards getting potty trained. Milimetering his way may be a more accurate representation.  I took off for work one morning leaving both boys with Care before Q headed off to school. She jumped in the shower and upon exiting couldn't find our little monster.  She looked and looked.  Quinny?  Oh, Quinny?  Where are you?  It's awful quiet in here...She found him naked on his potty chair.  He stripped himself down as he was already dressed for school by himself.  We are still looking for the diaper.  It has mysteriously disappeared.  We hope it was a number one.  Oh Mr. Diaper where are you?Even with him sitting in his office we still haven't had a successful potty experience.  People are telling me not until he turns four.  Six years of changing diapers.  Ya, I said six years and that's if junior number three doesn't materialize. Um, can we change the subject please?

When not running around buck neked Quinny is really into cleaning.  Carrie was out with shorty number two last weekend so I took some initiative to clean up the kitchen. If you clean one area and Quinny is in another you sort of just rotate.  He's in the living room trashing the place while you clean the kitchen.  You get the kitchen done and move into the living room.  While you are busting your hump cleaning the living room he sneaks into the kitchen and trashes the newly cleaned kitchen.  It's a vicious cleaning-trashing-cleaning-trashing cycle.  (And that's why we have a beer fridge).  So, to combat this it's better to have him help you.  Sure, it takes you two and half times longer to clean an area but you aren't doing things twice.  Slow and methodical is more fun than repeat, repeat, repeat.  Twenty minutes to empty the dishwasher.  You get the bottom rack done, look over and realize he's emptying the top rack by putting those dishes into the bottom rack.  Oh, kids, don't you just love em'?! He's working the counters with a rag and he has a never ending cold so being father of the year I ask him if maybe he would like a Kleenex.  You know to help with the snot running down his face.  He gives me a look that he's got it covered.  And then proceeds to blow his nose into the rag.  Yup, we live on the farm.  Hilarious.  Snot everywhere.  And what does one do when blowing their nose into their cleaning apparatus but continue cleaning with it of course.  Okay, so maybe even when he's helping you it's redundant cleaning.  Still, it was hilarious.  We got a new rag, a Kleenex and recleaned the counters or did we? No, no just kidding we totally wiped the snot up.

Gavin turned a month old last week.  He's plumping out like you wouldn't believe.  He's got massive cheeks.  He's also going bald.  I'm glad I'm not. Quinny lost his hair in the back but it kept growing long in the front and then grew out again in the back.  Gavin's is slowing receding from the front just like a real person going bald.  I kind of feel sorry for him.  I've done some research and apparently this is normal. It's not easy being 4 weeks old.  He's going to be totally bald, which is a buzz kill for me.  I love Quinny's trademark long hair.  He's always had it and it's always been awesome.  We put product in it.  It gets chicks.  It's awesome.  I always thought it was weird that babies were bald.  It is, isn't it?  We'll see how it shakes out but he's having a tougher time looking sexy right now than I remember Quentin.  It's cold here anyway so he's all bundled up.  People are still fighting for a look.  Isn't that a little weird too?  Strangers want to stare at your baby.

We haven't been very good at taking pictures lately.  I am digging deep here. And of course we forget to grab the camera on our way to the lady high kicking extravaganza but we did remember to bring both kids.  And, honestly, isn't that the important part?  Why don't they put flashes on camera phones?  Do I have to think of everything iPhone?  So here is Quinny sporting my shoes and Carrie's vest.  He's big on getting in the closets lately.  No dresses yet.  He has shaved a couple of times.  He has this bench and he's finally realized he can take the bench to any room and wah-la he has access to places he shouldn't like my shaving cream and cologne.  Here is one of big brother helping lil' bro with a nose pick.  What are brothers for?

Turning a boy into a Man

Now that Q-dog has a little brother I thought it high time that he start taking on the challenges of manhood.  Do you think your son's two year old birthday is too early to buy him his first gun?  I thought it would be a nice bonding experience.  You know killing things together and then gutting them.  Nothing says BFF's like getting two hands bloody.  I was trying to remember back when my dad got me my first BB gun.  I'm sure I was too young. Too young to remember so I suppose it was the right age.  I know one of the things I did with it was shoot my younger brother in the booty so clearly irresponsible enough, but likely older than 2.  Ultimately I decided a gun, even a BB gun, was probably not the right gift.  Okay, so what else can we do?  Got it.  We need to fix up the car.  Nothing says man better than greased up boys.

I did a little research online and found the local auto parts store.  I needed to winterize the engines that will sit all winter, get some new windshield wipers as they will have to tackle more destructive elements than rain this year, a new air filter and some funnels to dump a minimal amount of toxic chemicals or fossil fuels as some may call them into the Earth.  I picked up my son, soon to be a man, and loaded him into the car.  Along the few mile drive I taught him how to grunt like a man so when we got to the store he could act appropriately.  Not sure how to write the sweet sweet sound of grunting on paper.  Let me give it a shot so you can feel like you too were strapped in beside these men among men.  Grrrrrr, nope that's not it.  Hunnnn.  No, that doesn't really capture the moment either.  Ernnnnnn.  Well, that sounds like constipation.  Last try....Hurnnnernnnn, hurrnernnn, herrnnn.  That's pretty close.  Quinny was having a ball in the backseat grunting his way one hrrenurrn at a time into manhood. 

Practice completed we were ready to enter the store on a delightful Saturday morning. There was a tow truck in the lot revving it's engine.  Hurenenenr!  Hureennrrn!  Oh, ya this is gonna be great.  We walk into the store.  Q, dude!, get the pacifier out of your mouth.  Geez, you're totally blowing it!  Immediately the woman at the counter asks how old he is.  18.  He's a man.  Why?  Looking for a date?  Hurrennnr! She asks what we're looking for.  We give her the eye, wink and reply - trouble.  That's right honey I said trouble.  Know where I can find any? After Q was done flirting (I'm a married man you know) we spread out looking for the goods.  We had a pretty decent list and trying to find just the right part wasn't going to be easy.  Quinny was doing his part grabbing anything within reach, taking it out of its respective box, examining it, ultimately deciding it wasn't the right part and tossing it aside in the middle of the aisle.  Hurernnrerun!  That's right baby I do what I want.  Herurernnn!

After 30 minutes we gathered just about everything we needed.  The lady from behind the counter tracks us down and asks us if we have everything.  Hereunnr! She helps us take our man goods up to the counter and continues to flirt continuously with Quentin. Clearly, all that man practice in the car was paying off big time.  And I mean big time.  All Quinny had to do was ask for her digits and she would've melted right there next to the brake pads. But no he was playing it cool. He had the car to go home and work on.  The babe could wait.  Hereurrn! Playin' hard to get?  That's all man right there.  This kid was oozing cool. And with that he flipped his collar, walked out the front door, grabbed his bah, popped it in and strapped himself in for the ride home.  We revved the engine in the parking lot for effect.  Herenunnrn! Peeled out and headed home. 

We grunted out way all the way home with the excitement of getting greasy barely containable.  Hereunnrn! Upon reaching our destination and with the hood already popped open we grabbed our tools, one in each hand. Huerennr! Huernnr! Herurnern! We replaced the air filter, ditched the washed up wipers, installed the new ones, spilled gas multiple times all over the garage floor (not our house! Herurn!) - little dude don't inhale that, well okay just a little - alright that's enough -seriously enough, and got the engines winterized.  Like any good man moment we wiped our hands on our shirts, grabbed a man beverage, Busch Light, and quenched the thirst of acting like a man that only a Busch can cure.  It was official, Quinny was now a man.  And all before his second birthday.  He went inside and put on some man clothes flicked on nascar, kicked up his feet and called it a Saturday.  See picture.  I cannot wait for more man moments with the Qster.

Shake Yo Booty!

Daylight savings was not made for children.  Yowsers.  Momma!  Dadda!  Um, what's that noise?  It's 3:37 AM.  Oh, well it's Quentin of course ready to start his day.  If it wasn't for the Packers pummelling the Dallas Cowboys all night long I might have gotten some sleep.  That game was like watching a car crash.  I really wanted to turn it off and get some sleep but every time I reached for the remote they would do something spectacular.  There's just something inspiring about ripping the soul right out of a team's heart.  America's Team?  Good one.  I think it's safe to say the Packers make the playoffs.  But with the Pack playing late into Sunday night and the time change the kids were all screwed up.  We started the day at 3:30.  We tried to pack the bed with the whole family but it didn't take.  We have to go back to banning all children from bed.  We're such wafflers.  I just want to take the path of least resistance to sleep.  I'm not sure there is one.

The weather in Iowa has been fantastic so we had a glorious day getting ready for winter yesterday.  It's amazing what you can accomplish in a day when you start at 4am.  The house got cleaned, the laundry got done, the lawn got mowed for the first and hopefully last time this year and we found the time to watch some football and grill out.  We changed diapers approximately every 7 minutes as well and still managed to stay on course.  I think at any given moment in time someone is either crying (I'm including myself in there) or pooping.  It's really amazing how fast the human body can turn food into excrement.  We still are partial to Pampers versus Huggies.  We once again went with the Huggies for the newborn diapers and we find ourselves getting wazzered on constantly.  It's worth the extra few bucks to buy the Pampers and cut down on the laundry.  Huggies leak - constantly.

With Carrie hosting the feeding trough for Gavin Quentin and I have been spending more time together.  Getting him dressed in the morning has been a challenge so I sing to him, making up my own lyrics because I can't remember any children songs in their entirety.  Clearly, I have no singing talent what so ever or rhythm for that matter but I can put together some pretty sweet lyrics.  The other day I sang him a song to the hokey pokey music to get us going and we ended up with a "Shake, shake, shake yo booty.  Shake yo booty on down. Shake, shake, shaky yo booty on down.  Shake that booty." And so on.  It's an easy way to get his clothes on.  You put your right arm in, you put your left arm in.  Shake, shake, shake yo booty.  Shake yo booty on down. Put your left leg in, put your right leg in. Shake, shake yo booty. Shake yo booty on down.  Of course he's shaking his booty, which is really awesome. All day yesterday he's running around the house singing "shake yo booty down" while shaking his booty.  I've created a booty shaking monster.  We keep trying to get it on tape, but he gets a little camera shy.  Getting dressed is a shake yo booty down event now and a piece of cake in the mornings.

Gavin also took his first bottle yesterday and slurped that puppy down so that should provide Carrie with some night time relief down the stretch.  He's getting so much bigger.  He added his second and third chins this past week.  I'll be curious to see what he weighs in at during his next appointment because he's packing it on.  He's also started sleeping a little better at night.  If we go to bed pretty late like 11:30-12 he usually only gets up once or twice.  Now that I am writing that it doesn't sound that good considering we get up at 5.  Huh, it's amazing what you think is improvement with newborns.  With Quinny testing the waters at every step (Don't use that bat to hit the TV.  He turns around smiles, winds up...Quinny!?! and then smokes the TV.  That's it! TIME OUT! Wails away.  This happens in standard 15 minute intervals).  At any rate one needs a monstrous level of patience to make it to 10am.  Thankfully, I've been blessed with an extremely patient demeanor.  Carrie really leans on me and my patience to get through the day.  I really don't know what she'd do without me.  Yes, the blog is dripping with sarcasm.

We are slowly but surely getting used to the family of four.  One of these days we are going to be brave enough to venture into public as an entire family.  We aren't quite ready for that transition yet.  We were invited to dinner at a friend's house and we just kept declining.  I fear unleashing our tornado of a family on someone else's flat screen.  I just want to ask, are you insured?  And I mean well.  Really well.  I think Carrie and I are getting near looking for a reprieve.  We aren't there yet as we are still exhausted but we will be soon.  The stir crazies are starting to set in.

Here are a few pics of Gavin posing and Quinny not quite letting go of his youth as he joined Gavin on the floor for some time with his old toys.

Fitting In

As we continue to retrace our Midwestern roots we did what any new to Iowa person would do this past weekend.  Yup, we visited the ole' shootin' range.  Being a novice I wasn't too sure about this little adventure but my father assured me this would be a blast.  I'll bet.  I'm not afraid to walk into this place and let everyone know I don't know anything about bustin' a cap but my dad tells me to play it cool.  Sure, no problem.  I doubt they'll notice I know nothing about guns like how to load one.  We walk in cool as a cucumber checking out the cache or is it stash? of guns on the walls.  I'm doing my best to speak all the right lingo.  "Damn liberals!"  Well, I see there is the one the terrorists like to use (AK-47) and I see the one our marines like (M-16).  My dad re-fell in love with the beloved M-14 from his on-my-way-to-Vietnam days.  "Seriously, no seriously, I was accurate at 500 meters."  Uh-huh.  Me too!  Well, clearly that AR-15 is a deer rifle and a must have in any gun collection. Then we got to the hand guns.  Okay, sir I'll take that one. Ya, the shiny one with the long barrel.  Can you just load that sucker up and point me in the right direction?  We can just rent one of these right?  Suddenly, like a deer in headlights, the jig was up and we were exposed.  And I had such confidence.

Apparently, according to our gun toting host, the liberals up there in Milwaukee have made it so renting isn't so easy.  I guess a few poor souls have rented one of these blasting machines and taken their own life in the range.  Didn't see that conversation coming this weekend.  So, what's a couple of guys with a Wisconsin and a Florida driver's license to do in a gun shop in Iowa?  Well, get the scoop on how to illegally purchase a firearm of course!  It's deer season!  Okay, well, we are about to enter the realm of state line crossing gun smuggling rebels.  Hmm, maybe we should just head home and watch the football game.  What do you think?  It was at that point that our host realized we weren't going to shell out thousands for our second amendment rights or at least put that theory to the test.  Maybe the NRA could defend us.  And I was really looking forward to popping off a few rounds.  I hear it's a great way to relive stress.  In all seriousness you could choose a target that had a picture of Saddam on it.  Isn't he already dead? I really wanted to take a shot at Osama.

After the gun shop experience I enquired to my colleagues at work that I was attempting to assimilate into my new state but can't seem to grab a foothold.  Of course they were incredulous to my gun buying ignorance.  They tell me,"All you have to do is run down to the Sheriff's office and get a background check.  After paying for that you just need to fill out an application for a permit to purchase a weapon.  It's only about a two month process.  Once you've paid and procured one of those you can then go back to paranoid gun shop owner fill out another application, wait 7 days and by Easter you could be the proud owner of a Glock or a Sig-9," but after waiting so long you've probably already moved on to a new hobby like corn planting since it's spring.  Oh, and no duh?  Where did you grow up?

Quinny seems to be fairing a little better.  It's about 6:30 the other morning and I'm getting my briefcase together and he's finishing up breakfast in the kitchen.  I look over and he's chugging out of the milk carton. Now, I know he didn't see me do that because I'm allergic and don't drink milk.  Care?  That's what I thought.  I got a sweet picture.  It was hilarious to look up and see your not quite two year old chugging down some good old fashioned moo-juice.  Where did you grow up?  In a barn?  Just wait it could still happen. 

Gavin is growing like a little weed so it looks like he's taking after his big brother.  He weighed in at 7 pounds 11 ounces at his two week appointment last week.  That's a full pound and nearly a pound and a half since being released from the hospital.  Now, I know what all that crying is for in the middle of the night.  Ungry! Ungry! We have another child that snores the day away and screams all night - again.  Seriously?  Well, at least we know it can't get worse.  We are probably getting between 3-4 hours a sleep a night but it comes in roughly 45-70 minute increments.  Obviously, Carrie does the heavy lifting but do me a favor and set your alarm for every 50 minutes tonight and let me know how great you feel tomorrow.  Oh, right, you already had kids.  If you haven't do it soon before you get too old.

The top picture is of Gavin on weigh-in day.  You can see his giant paws.  Q slamming the milk and a victory shot for bragging rights.  Yes, Wisco won the bacon trophy.  We don't play Iowa for 3 more years. The next time Iowa has a shot at beating Wisconsin Quinny will be able to drive.

Happy Halloween

We had our first Cedar Rapids Halloween and fairly good weather.  By fairly I mean a temperature that would be considered tolerable and a breeze less than the 40 MPH winds we experienced throughout the week.  The city held trick or treating Sunday evening, which seemed a bit odd but this is the first time we've been trick or treating in 20 years so I'm not in a good position to argue otherwise.  For a warm up work held trick or treating for the employee's children on Thursday.  It took Quinny a while to warm up but once he got started it was "want some" and "more."  He didn't quite grasp the candy concept.  He's not yet two so we haven't been feeding him candy on the regular.  Tonight we found out why.  Oh, the highest of sugar highs and the lowest of sugar withdrawals. I thought the whole thing was a myth.  But after three suckers, one pack of M & M's and some skittles I'm a believer.  There is such a thing as a sugar high.  Upon finish the aforementioned candy he went ballistic.  He was screaming and moving a hundred miles an hour. We literally started running around the house - in circles for the next 45 minutes trying to bring him back down.  When he crashed, he crashed hard and we hopefully have a peacefully sleeping little hamburger. 

I can't imagine we don't live in a Halloween utopia.  I'm not sure if there is a single house here without children in it.  The entire neighborhood was either out trick or treating or happily greeting the hundreds of candy hoarders.  The majority of houses were decorated.  I fear we won't measure up come Christmas time.  I have house decoration envy.  We feel good that so many of our neighbors are in the same place in life raising families and are so friendly.  We've definitely hit the jackpot in that respect.

Quinny was a hit in his hamburger costume and we didn't see a single other burger in the neighborhood.  Gavin and Lucky joined the caravan around town.  Gavin had a little pumpkin onesie on but it was too chilly for him to be exposed so he was all bundled up and tucked into his stroller.  Lucky wore is badger red bandanna and enjoyed the walk around to see all the people.  Being out trick or treating instead of in waiting for the trick or treaters means we have far too much candy left over, which is slowly being devoured by me. 

Outside of having too much candy we had a fairly quiet weekend.  Quinny carved his first pumpkin but was more interested in allowing me to do the dirty work.  Shockingly he didn't want to plunge his little paws into the orange goo and start scooping out.  We carved a little happy face into his pumpkin and lit it up for the first time.  Quentin definitely got a kick of lighting it up.  Pumpkin!  Orange!  It was a good time to see Halloween from a different perspective. 

Here are some pics of Quinny posing on the proch before we headed out for our bounty of candy.  A picture of Gavin in his costume and one of Q returning enjoying his first ever sucker.

Game Day

We are preparing for the showdown between the Hawkeyes and the Badgers at the house this afternoon. We invited the Iowa family over to watch the 2:30 kick off.  We will of course show off our newest addition as well.  The rules are pretty simple.  If you wear red you get to eat and drink for free.  If you wear Badger gear you won't have to pay a cover, will be relieved of incessant smack talking about how your quarterback spends as much time throwing to the opposite team as own and you can enjoy top shelf adult beverages to imbibe at no cost.  If, and I can't imagine anyone would have the audacity, one wears puke yellow to the house, well then you are on the BYO-X system.  As in Bring Your Own X (whatever) you want to eat and drink. 

The household is looking forward to it.  So much so that the entire house was up all night because they couldn't sleep in anticipation of the big event.  It was just like Christmas.  Gavin spent the entire night up and Carrie hit the wall around 3:30 and tapped out waking me up to take over.  Nothing better in life than the ol' 3:30 AM shift.  You can't imagine what is on TV at that hour.  So I am spending time watching the greatest television ever while rocking baby G back to sleep for about an hour when I hear another noise.  That can't be.  You have to be kidding me.  Seriously? Is that Q crying?  So, as I sit there watching Nitro on MTV2, whatever that is, I contemplate how I pick up a 40 pound crying nearly two year old while holding a finally quiet almost 9 day old at the same time.  I glance over at sleeping beauty and don't want to wake her up because I know she hasn't caught more than two hours of sleep in a row in weeks.  So I put baby Gavin into a chair and go track down Quentin.  That was it. He wanted to come into our bed, which is a war zone these days.  Lights on, lights off.  Baby crying, baby feeding, baby crying, baby diaper change, lights on, lights off, poopy diaper, comment of geez, Josh, It's your turn, baby crying, and now the introduction of Quentin.  I look over at Carrie and confirm we did indeed decide to host a get together tomorrow afternoon.  It's really shocking how much one can accomplish in a day when they start at 4:30 AM.

Hosting did cause us to dig out some pictures of the family and put some boxes away.  It's clear at this point some things are just not going to get unpacked, which is code for you don't need this stuff.  Moving into a bigger house is a misnomer.  You don't really need the space.  You convince yourself you do because really you just want to accumulate more stuff.  Our basement has a perfect little space that would exactly fit a 96 inch LCD TV placed neatly on the wall.  I'm sure that's just some random coincidence. The wife is not going it for it.  But, honey the builder wanted it this way.  Still unconvinced?  Maybe Santa will just put it under the tree. 

I think all of us are still carrying some leftover Florida baggage.  Q was getting in trouble for "wandering" at school this week.  They say he doesn't listen very well.  I'm not good at taking adult criticism.  I have always felt like if you are going to micromanage me than I'm going to make you earn your stripes and act like someone that needs to be micromanaged.  I'm very curious to understand exactly how well a 1 year old is supposed to listen.  They said he wanders around the class during "free play" but does well when they are doing any specific activity.  I'm not saying this out loud, but I'm thinking it's free play.  Doesn't the title imply your kid should be wandering around the room doing whatever they want?  They have a bunny in the middle of the room that he gravitates to.  We don't live on a farm. This is his first experience with a bunny.  He's one.  I'm sorry you're telling me you are shocked he can't stop checking it out?  We may have chosen the wrong daycare.  I don't think he's made friends yet and he still talks about his old friends from Tampa, which I'm surprised to hear.  What a memory?  He's going to be the guy that remembers being in the womb.

Quinny is a lot like me.  He's determined.  He's ultra observant and is constantly multi-tasking.  He'll start one thing, see another and move on.  He'll come back to the first thing but he's curious.  He's a boy. He loves the outdoors.  He needs exercise.  I want him to do well and now I'm sitting here thinking he's spending half his day in time out?  They say time out has no effect on him. He happily, smiling, goes to his chair without a care in the world.  At home he hates it, wailing through the entire two minutes eager to say sorry and move on. I will admit it.  It makes me smile that he's man enough, at one, to stick it to the man. But, you know it sucks and you know it has to have some effect on him.  Now my paranoia sets in and I wonder if they are singling him out or have less patience for him than the others.  I wonder if we made a colossal mistake sending him to this particular daycare.  I'm sure I'm over reacting.  There are probably just too many Hawkeye fans there and we keep dressing him in Wisco gear (you know to stick it to em'!).  We'll be keeping an eye on them and hopefully we work it out.  If not we will be on the daycare hunt.  It's a lot of change for all of us and people think he's too young to notice.  But this is boy genius we're talking about and it simply is not true.  He knows and he's having a tough time.

Here a few recent pics of Gavin.  Q has been absolutely great.  He talks about him on the way home from school, always wants to see him and showers him with hugs and kisses.  Gavin has made the night time routine with Q kissing everyone good night (including Lucky) and giving everyone a hug.  Here is Q administrating one of those and Gavin's big feet!

Hunting - Iowa Style

I've lived in Iowa for about 7 weeks. I grew up in Lake Geneva, a way too small town way too many people think is a great destination. I am sure the town or city that everyone grows up in shapes them in some way or another as they grow older. For me I knew immediately that anonymity was the way to go. Small towns, well you can keep em'. I applied to two schools for college, Marquette and the UDub. Marquette wanted more information, automatically disqualifying them from the application process. Sweet, sweet Madison accepted a fairly good student with an acceptable ACT score. People said you'd be a number. Say no more. Upon graduation I took a job in Atlanta and was a bit frightened at moving to a place I knew no one, but was a double major in English and history and didn't have a lot of places to turn. (The original plan was law school, but I grew tired of the bills and never ending requirements. My strength is not responding to authority). Shortly after accepting the position I was asked to apply for a position at the UW Foundation and a career in fundraising was born. Since then I've lived in New York, Miami, Boston and Tampa. I've turned into a bit of a city snob. I like nice restaurants and I enjoy a decent shopping experience. I don't believe in Wal-Mart (mostly due to their politics and basically it's a Chinese economy. Is it really worth the savings of 34 cents)? Target is better. One can actually navigate an aisle and the parking lot. You know what I'm talking about.

I am home this week to help Carrie out as we make the transition from a family of three to a family of four. One thinks an addition of one wouldn't upset the apple cart all that much, but statistically speaking we are adding a solid 33% to our family. If only our GDP could grow at such a rate in 36 weeks and five days! I've had precious little time to reflect on the move and the differences of Iowa and Florida right up until the moment a mouse ran across my living room floor. It's that sort of moment that puts life's moments in perspective. Sure, they might be sort of cute and cuddly and possibly even sold in local pet stores, but, it was appalling.

I, armed with ineptitude, grabbed a gallon size Tupperware container hoping to contain the beast. My mother in-law laughing at me immediately calling for a camera shot to preserve the city boy moment. "That's not how you kill a mouse!" Outstanding! By all means I am open to suggestions. That was it. I stood there flabbergasted at how people could possibly cohabited with mammals outside of dogs and cats. It wasn't but 3 hours earlier I was at a pet store buying Quinny his first aquarium full of fish; his first hand picked pets. And now, I had a living zoo presumably eating off my hard earned work and living rent free. I am sure all readers know that 1 in 5 Londoners died of the rat infested population of the city to a tune of an estimated 25 million right? I just had a baby! A mouse? In Florida we don't have rodents. At least not in our homes. Sure, we have cockroaches the size of miniature poodles but you can stomp on those suckers. This is furry! Furry, people, furry!

I wasn't quite sure what to do. I googled exterminator. I saw the pictures of the guy spraying chemicals and killing the bad bugs and furry rodents on the spot. It reminded me of Arachnophobia where John Goodman is trying to kill the spider and it won't die. He eventually walks over and squashes it. As I'm perusing the local rodent killers I google "organic." This is of course a service that this city snob used before and left our house insect free for 3 years for $50 and was harmless to us, our baby and our pets. But we are in Iowa (it doesn't exist anywhere in the state - million dollar idea}??? - and therefore I wished for a .22 caliber rifle to solve the problem. At least I would get props from the fellas for shooting my rifle at the local wildlife in the house. If that doesn't earn you free beers at your around the corner bar what does? But to no avail, so I did what any city boy would do. I headed out to the local Menard's and bought one of every rodent killing device they stocked. That's right, I was a officially a hunter.

I walked back into the house feeling like a plaid shirt wrangler wearing chest puffed man. I laid my contraptions on the counter for all to see. I had $.78 old school snap your neck traps with cheese. I had run over this and you are stuck for life traps (glue). I had "child-friendly" snap your neck traps. I had concoctions to "lure" rodents of all sizes to their neck breaking death. (This is really some sort of racket, sort of like child care but significantly cheaper). The ladies might not have been impressed, but Quinny was. Ah, sons. More sons please. Two might not be enough.

So, like a true Iowan I got up on my tree stand (living room) and started peanut buttering up my traps. I laid them behind the aquarium. Seriously, I set that thing up yesterday and a mouse made it its home already? I put one in the closet. Behind the washer, in another closet, behind the aquarium, again, and stealthily laid one out in the store room. Not 60 seconds later my hunter instinct took over. A loud snap! reverberated throughout the house. Gotcha you furry little disease killer that some kids consider pets! But, no it was a false positive. Glad, we don't have daughters. The whole $.37 trap broke. Guess what folks? Yup, made in China. I would take it back, but it was full of peanut butter. So, like a true Iowa hunter, as I understand it, I made myself a cocktail, threw in a movie about British hooligans (aren't they all)? and sat in my tree stand (couch) for the long haul. About 90 minutes and two cocktails later I heard an unmistakable squeaking. I am thinking what is that Lucky dog of mine up to when I realized I was using him as an ottoman. I looked at Carrie, who looked at Gavin, who looked at me, who looked back at Carrie who then looked back at me when we all realized the pooch was looking at us wondering what the squeaking was.

Well, that squeaking was one sorry mouse because it didn't have its SAG card from working on the Green Mile and was stuck in some serious glue behind the washer. Hmm. Okay, so I'm a hunter now with my first kill. I have not one but two Swiss army knives (red and black) to gut this ferocious mammal but this sucker is still alive. Sure, it's a humane way not to kill your child but I have an approximately 6 ounce mouse glued to a six inch piece of paper that is decidedly not a science or an art project for high school. Oh yes, I remember now, I live in Iowa and I have an entire corn field in my back yard. I donned some gloves, picked up squealing mouse and took him for the dead mouse walking! off the plank. Lucky joined me for the funeral procession. At the edge of the corn field, being new to Iowa, I decided a Frisbee throw would be best. And wah-la humans 1, rodents 0. Winner! I know, I know. And yes, when I walked away it was still squealing. But aren't we in pig farming territory? No one will even notice.

So to celebrate my first ever mammal slaughter a picture of baby Gavin. He gained 2 ounces since leaving the hospital. Hooray! Hopefully he survives the black plague!

I'm not sure how people live with the possibility of mice in their homes. I am refortifying the dryer vent, which had to be the way in. I fear finding another a mouse as a clan or family or herd or whatever they call them. I did notice a gun shop on the way to Quentin's daycare the other day. Too soon? Okay, well rest in peace sweet fury mouse. If you some how make it to the big cornfield in the sky tell your friends to stay away from Sandhurst Drive.

Enjoy the unrelated to this story picture of my new son. He sleeps all day and screams all night. That makes him our new son. If he slept through the night we would be worried.