I’m just mad about savron…

All the things Link said, all the things Link said, running through my head…

You might be reading that title thinking “What a dummy, he doesn’t even know how to spell saffron”. You might also be reading that title thinking, what is that supposed to mean? You might also be reading the title and thinking, I have no idea what that is from. Some of you may not have figured out that 90% of my titles and captions are song or movie references. Some of you aren’t even reading the title. Some of you aren’t even reading this.

Let me address all of these: I certainly am a dummy, but for many many other reasons than my ability or inability to spell saffron. It should be noted that I spent a good deal of my childhood watching cooking shows so I have a pretty good sense of how to spell most spices. Right back to it, check, not a dummy for spelling, dummy for other things, moving on.

The title is a quote from Donovan’s song “Mellow Yellow”. I have an eclectic taste in music and pull from all genres. For those that didn’t know I quote movies and songs all the time in my posts… Well, if you don’t know, now you know. Addressing the 2 not reading items… well… I mean it’s your choice, you might be missing out on something fun and quirky. Honestly, who are we kidding here, you’re not missing anything, I’m shocked every time I see more than 3 people read this thing.

Finally, the point of the message (I know, you were thinking it would never come. Honestly, so was I! This guy can drone on about mundane things for hours, I don’t even know why I keep coming back. (He talks to himself more than he talks to us. It’s really annoying (Yeah, who does he think he is? He’s the “writer” so he thinks he gets to decide what we want to read?(Wasn’t this blog supposed to be about his family?))) I bet you thought I was gonna miss this parenthesis. (I didn’t!)) this blog post is all about things Link says. I’m gonna cover a few and I am sure I will have more in the future.

So he’s wearing what my other boys affectionately call a “stratch out” shirt. This is a tank top people, I have no idea how it got the name “stratch out” though I think it’s related to the extra room in the shirt and they boys felt like they could “stretch out”. I could be wrong on the details here, I’ll let someone correct me later. Anyhow this is a little Nike tank top shirt.

Link, always the animated one, starts talking about how great his shirt is, he decides to start describing it. “It’s balue and it has da words on it. I love my savron shirt, it’s da best!” He always talks with his hands, so they’re waving pretty good at this point.

“Wait, what? You love what buddy?” I ask.

“Uh, daaad, my SAVRON shirt!” he replies.

Still clueless I ask, “Oh… what’s savron, duder?”

“Daaaahd, it’s da game! Savron!” he says to me with a furrowed brow. He also does this thing where he looks down and to the left when he’s getting really serious. Almost like side eyeing you.

As a parent of more than one kid, I figured out a long time ago that kids speak the same language. I check with the other boys, they have no idea what he’s talking about.

I go back to Link and I ask him, “Hey buddy, can you tell me about savron?”

Arms go to waving, brow furrowed, “Daaaaaahd! You know, SAVRON! When dey run and kick da ball up and down.”

There you have it folks, savron is soccer.

My all time favorite entry into the Linxicon (see what I did there, I portmanteau’d Link and lexicon, man I’m so clever) is “blanklet”. He means blanket, but he always says “blanklet”. I only call them blanklets now too. We’ve decided this one will stick, I don’t care how much he hates it when he gets older.

I was going to provide a few more entries, but I rambled about some stuff (shocking, right?) and feel like my word count is reaching the quota. Until next time, snuggle up under your blanklet and tune your television to a savron match.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you’ve been waiting for…

That seems awfully presumptive of me doesn’t it? Presumptive? Presumptuous? I dunno, I’n not going to change it. Really though, the important part…

It’s time to meet the boys! There’s no way to cover all that has happened in the last eight years, so I’m just gonna start fresh here. In no particular order, except age ascending, these are my boys:

It’s dangerous to go alone, take this…

This is Lincoln, we call him Link. Honestly, we named him Lincoln only because we wanted to use the nickname Link (Yes, the reference above IS from Zelda and I am proud to have named my child with that reference in mind (For those keeping records Link to the Past might be the greatest game ever made (I am quite a fan of Breath of the Wild though. (This rabbit hole was deep)))). I know you’re probably thinking, why would they do that? Well that’s my business and I don’t have to tell you (or I don’t really have a good reason). Link is 3 years old. He’s adorable and he knows it. He says the craziest things and is unintentionally funny. He’s a lover, he likes to call your name and tell you “I love you, you’re the best”. It’s the sweetest thing ever.

He’s smart, too smart. A few months ago, he started this thing where he would ask me if I bought him a toy that he was playing with. In most cases, the answer was no, we’d had the thing for quite a while, but he would insist that I bought it for him. Eventually I relented and just started telling him “Yeah, I bought that for you”. He’d respond with “Thanks Dad, you’re the best!” I mean, of course, I just kept telling him I bought him all the stuff, why wouldn’t I?

Well, turns out the little stinker was using it to his advantage. When his brothers would ask him for a toy, he’d tell them “Dad bought this for me” as a reason to not share. It took me weeks to figure out this was what he was doing. Smart little guy. If you want a snuggle he’s your man, he loves to give hugs.

Hippity Hoppin, Rhyster’s on his way…

This is our Rhyster Bunny, who no longer likes to be called Rhyster Bunny. I can’t blame him, I called him “Bunny” for a year or so, then “Buns” for a bit. He still lets me call him Rhyster occasionally. For my friends here in the US, no, this is not the traditional American way to spell “Reece or Reese”, but it is pronounced essentially the same way. This is the Welsh spelling, we really got into British TV several months before he was born and we just loved the spelling. Also, it has a softer “s” sound, more like Reez.

Rhys is determined, he’s a little ball of emotion, often anger is the emotion we see. He’s the one most likely to have a breakdown over nothing. He can be amazingly loving. He loves to sing. He’s constantly singing. I often have to tell him things like, “Buddy, I love your face and I love your singing, but you have to stop for a bit.” or “Rhys, stop.” We often say he is made of music. He’s 5 years old and he picks out and sings harmonies, it’s pretty incredible.

He loves to help if he has chosen to help, he doesn’t love to help if he is told to help. Sometimes we get creative and let him believe he has made the decision to help, this usually makes him feel better about the situation. I would call Rhys street smart, he would probably make a savvy businessman. He’s a bulldozer, he just plows through everything and likely it will be hurt and not him. If you do some back reading on my blog, there’s a little tidbit about me breaking things unintentionally, this was passed on to Rhys.

We were lost and found, in the Nik-o time…

Lastly and certainly not least, a reintroduction of sorts. This is the boy that make all of this happen. This is Nikolas, we call him Niko, pronounced “Nee-koh”, I realize the quote above may make someone think it’s “Nick-Oh” it’s not, I was just stretching for a quote. He’s 8 years old now, kind, loving, helpful, smart, (Oxford commas are the only way to go. Go ahead and fight me on this one. (Seriously, you’re gonna go into proper grammar and sentence structure after that last horribly structured run-on sentence? (Yes, I am.))) and goofy.

Niko loves art, he could draw all day long and on many days has. He’s the kind of kid that seeks approval and hates to disappoint. This is something that is really hard for me to relate to, because I am squarely in the “who cares what anyone else thinks” camp. (This is clearly reinforced by my constant use of asides that no one else cares about.) Niko loves to tell jokes and often finds ones that make me chuckle. He’s really intelligent but at times really lacks common sense. It’s something we have to remind him of a lot. He cares for his brothers and wants to take care of them. He’s gonna be a good dad some day.

So, those are my boys, you’re all caught up, give me another 8 years and I’ll give you another update. I jest, there are so many stories to tell and so many more are being made as I write this. I can’t wait to share them with you (I know, you’re thinking, clearly he can, it took 8 years for this one).

This post is not for you.

Hello dear reader,

This post is not for you. While few, I’m sure there are some of you out there still. Maybe someone is discovering this blog for the first time, or maybe you remember me as the guy with the Shakespearen poo jokes. You might remember me as the guy that destroyed a crib or two or maybe the guy that turned a deer carcass into a car ramp. Yep, that’s me.

You might be thinking, this guy abandoned us. Or maybe this guy doesn’t know me. All of these are true. I’m not gonna apologize. I’m not gonna apologize because this post isn’t for you.

You’re probably thinking “Oh, this guy… he sure loved to bait and switch us.” You wouldn’t be wrong.

I’m not apologizing though, because this post is not for you. You might think that I keep mentioning that this post isn’t for you, so it must be, like some weird reverse psychology thing. It’s not.

I’ve never considered writing a passion for me. I don’t even think I’m good at it most of the time. No, I’m not fishing for compliments, remember this post isn’t for you. I think for me writing is a release. There’s so much going on in the world, but I’m not gonna talk about any of that. I’m not going to apologigize for keeping politics and world issues out of my blog. Especially since this post isn’t for you.

So I’m going to do my best to use this forum to provide a little levity, a little humor in these times where there doesn’t seem to be a lot of humor. This is all for me of course, because this post isn’t for you.

Here’s the payoff if you’re still reading, which I don’t know why you would be, because you already know this post isn’t for you. It’s been 8 years since I posted last. I now am blessed with 3 crazy boys, ages 8, 5, and 3. I’ll have many stories to tell and I’ll do my best to add my unique spin on it all.

Obviously the point of all of this is for me to remember. To look back and say “Oh, yeah, that happened. Can you believe it?” I guess I’ll let you follow along. Maybe even allow you to comment on my posts. If you’re lucky, I might comment back. I’m not making any promises or commitments on frequency of posts and I shouldn’t have to, after all, this post isn’t for you.

This post is for me.

Ok, maybe it is for you too… just a little bit.

Soy un perdedor…

I’ve got a plan to lose it all…

Dear Reader,

I’m really terrible at updating. I have been feeling guilty about this for about a month now. I get emails letting me know about my new followers. I get emails with comments made on posts that are a month old. I’m sorry. I really am going to make more of an effort to post. Does this sound familiar to you? Seems like I’ve heard it somewhere before…

So, we’re gonna call this a mini-update, though it should totally be a super update, since I’ve had my proverbial head buried in the proverbial sand. Wait, is that even a proverb? I think it’s an idiom. Making me the idiot. I apologize, let’s go over that again… since I’ve had my idiomatic head buried in the idiomatic sand. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

The little guy refuses to crawl. He will spin on his belly like a top, but just won’t crawl. He seems hung up on trying to use his feet to push instead of his knees. This leads to an awkward bear crawl position with his bum in the air and his hands and feet on the ground. The problem is… he can’t go anywhere. He’s a brave little guy, he’s tried to launch himself out of and off of things, but when he’s got his rump skyward, he won’t move. The he kinda gets stuck. He doesn’t know how to get down. It’s all quite funny, but we try not to mock him… too much.

I think it comes down to the fact that he wants to walk. He will hold on to our hands and waddle towards us. We got him a walker and he’s still trying to figure out how to go forward, but he really likes it. He wants to walk every chance he gets. When we try to assist him with crawling he gets upset and drops back down to his belly. Again, this is quite entertaining for Mom and Dad, but he is not amused.

We have him eating solid foods. He’s really into sweet potatoes. We’ve been giving him an assortment of foods and he seems to like them all. He’s so tiny, but you’d never know that by the way he eats. He’s got his daddy’s appetite. If only his daddy had his metabolism or energy or lack of laziness. That sentence could have gone on for ages, glad I found a good stopping point…

He starting to imitate us, by smacking his jaws together like he’s talking. He will flap his mouth open and shut almost in rhythm with us. It doesn’t matter if we’re telling him a story or giving him a stern “No, Sir!” he yaps along with us. Which makes those stern “No, Sir!s” much more difficult for us.

So this is my update for today, I’m SURE in the near future I will touch one of these subjects in depth. Since I’m sure about it you can be too. I wouldn’t lie to you. Ok, I wouldn’t purposefully lie to you, because by setting myself up like that, I’m asking for some extraneous circumstance to come along and make a liar out of me. Uhh, and with that… I’ll see you next time. (That was a weird ending.) Yeah, I’ve always had a problem wrapping these things up. (Lack of practice?) Touché inner-self, touché.

Cause you’ve got… personalities

There was no thief, cause it was me that lost you and you and you and you…

As a parent, since I’m now an expert on the subject, it is hard to admit when your child has a problem. In the past several weeks I’ve noticed one but I didn’t want to acknowledge it was there. There’s really no denying it. My son has multiple personality disorder.

This post will introduce you, my faithful, beautiful, intelligent reader to these different characters.

The first one we will talk about is Slobberfist, the Terrible. I think he’s a pirate, he could be a viking, they have very similar traits. Slobberfist usually makes visits while the host is being held. He constantly has one hand in his mouth while flopping back and forth. The host is usually still and holds himself up. Slobberfist feels that everything in sight is his. He feels the need to plunder his booty by rubbing his drool covered digits across whatever he can, thus proclaiming himself as the rightful owner. I expect that Slobberfist’s first words will be “YARR!” or “Shiver me timbers”.

Moving on… Now, I’d like you to meet Fussy McGrumpybritches. I’m pretty sure he’s Scottish. (If I have Scottish readers out there please disregard my stereotypical plaid dressed baby. I don’t really believe you all dress that way.) Fussy McGrumpybritches is like that one family member you feel obligated to invite to family gatherings, you hope  he won’t show up but he always does. Fussy McGrumpybritches is the polar opposite of the host. All the things that make the host happy, Fussy McGrumpybritches hates, with fervor. He may show up at any time without warning and he always stays too long. Fussy McGrumpybritches is easily my least favorite of the personalities. You can’t win when Fussy McGrumpybritches is on the scene. Fussy McGrumpyBritches’s (That is correct usage of the possessive apostrophe, no matter how much I hate it.) first words will probably be “NO!” or “NO!”.

Then there’s Niko Q Public, I will refer to him as NQP. NQP shows up at social events. NQP is always on his best behavior. NQP is adorable and he knows it. All the best qualities of the host come out when NQP is around. People love NQP, he is an absolute ham. He flashes his gummy grin to anyone who will notice him, which is virtually everybody and he loves it. NQP is always the perfect gentleman, though he doesn’t even know what that means yet. I picture him wearing a bow tie for some reason. NQP will be speaking before the other personalities and will probably say “Cheese!” or “Yes, I know I’m adorable.”

Which brings us to Destructosaurus Rex. D-Rex wants anything he sees, he is very similar to Slobberfist in this regard. D-Rex on the other hand doesn’t want to claim it as his own with slobber. D-Rex wants to smash it, drop it, headbutt it, fling it around, pull its hair (if it has any), or murderize it in any way possible. D-Rex doesn’t show up too often, but when he does… hide EVERYTHING. D-Rex is a very jovial little guy, he squeals with joy as he sees the wreckage left in his wake. I’m certain D-Rex will have a vocabulary like the Hulk with words like “SMASH!!” or “Mine!”.

All of this brings us to the original, the Host. We call him Niko. He’s the median of all the personalities. He’s happy, angry, destructive, slobbery, adorable, and a slew of other things. I’m pretty sure we like him the best. He’s the one we see the most and we like it that way. His first words will probably be “Mama” or “Mom”. He loves that lady.

Oh, bravo, you’re the best…

Can’t hold a candle to him cause all the moths get in the way…

Hello, my name is Chuck and I’m an Instagramaholic. (Dramatic pause) I first noticed my problem several weeks ago. (Sniffle) I became obsessed with taking pictures and adding different filters to them. (Hangs head in shame) It has affected my life in the following ways: I blog less (Now you know the truth.); I spend my free time thinking about how cool things would look with the Kelvin filter and radial blur; I miss good photo opportunities because I’m waiting for the Instagram app to load.

I’m starting a support group, if you’re an Instagramaholic like me, we’ll be here to help, encourage, and share our masterpieces with you. Oh wait, ignore that last part, we’re here to kick our habit not feed it. Is it really all that terrible of a thing though? I mean look at what this app does… these are works of art.

I think I just started back over at step one. Seriously though, I can’t stop taking pictures. If you have Instagram on your mobile device and would like to see more photos of my son with breath-taking filters applied, you can follow me on Instagram. My username is “fathertrek” original right?

If you DON’T have Instagram on your mobile device or don’t have a mobile device that supports it, don’t fall into the trap. It’s like smoking, you start because the cool kids are doing it. You hate it when you try it, your body tells you how dumb it is that you’re inhaling noxious fumes from tar sticks. It makes your chest hurt, you wheeze for hours afterwards, it tastes terrible, your parents would slap you silly if they found out. You do it anyway and you continue to do it because the cool kids are still doing it. You develop a habit, it starts out small just a couple after school with the other hip kids. That never hurt anyone. It grows, you then realize you’re doing it when the hip kids aren’t around. Time passes, you’re chain smoking 4 packs a day like a chimney in Alaska. You look 15 years older than you are… Wait… This smoking analogy went the wrong way… Instagram is like smoking because you just can’t seem to stop. Ah, yes, there we are.

I just assume all those things above apply to cigarettes, I’ve never smoked a day in my life. Tar sticks. Gross.

Was this all a shameless plug to have you guys look at my Instagram photos? Possibly.

The 90 Day Review…

And there’s doctors and lawyers and business executives…

Oh hai! Do you guys remember me? It’s been sooooo long. I’m sorry. Apparently this whole being a parent thing eats away at your time. Who knew? Oh right… all of you that have warned me this will happen. Gotcha.

So, look at that, a title that isn’t a movie reference or obscure song lyrics or non-obscure song lyrics. Some of you out there are thinking “Why didn’t he use ‘common’ or ‘known’?” well, the answer is because I just now thought of those words and I’m way to lazy to backspace and get rid of ‘non-obscure’. Yes, I did just type a run-on sentence to explain why I did what I did which probably took more time than it would have taken to just go back and edit the prior line but I didn’t feel like going back and fixing it because I secretly like fake words better than real words but now that’s not a secret anymore because I just told you. Look at that beautiful sentence. My literary friends now hate me. Like I have literary friends…

Oh hey, this is the part of the blog where I actually cut to the chase. I thought a heads-up was in order. 

Most employers here in the US of A give a 90 day performance evaluation, prior to this evaluation employment can be terminated with little justification and repercussion. This isn’t how it works everywhere, but this is a standard practice. With that out of the way, I will now give my 90 day evaluation of my child.

Name: Nikolas

Time Employed: 3 months

Job Title: Baby

Job Description: Small human with very few abilities. 

Responsibilities: Eating, Sleeping, Pooping, Peeing, Vomiting, Crying, Laughing

List your observations of the employees work habits: Nikolas is lazy, he eats too much, he poops too much, he pees too much. We simply couldn’t ask any more of him in these categories. So far he completes all job tasks with extraordinary skill. He generally completes tasks on time and rarely misses a deadline.

He does appear to have a problem with authority, when assigned to do special projects he has on a number of occasions returned my requests with a blank stare. He then proceeds with completing a normal job task he was already working on.

He seems to work well with others. He is completely dependent on his co-workers, yet his communication skills have become a cause for concern. He squeals, laughs or grunts at co-workers which is causing a bit of tension in the work place.

He has been late to work on a number of occasions. He doesn’t appear to have any form of transportation. Others have noticed that he is carried every where he goes. This should probably be addressed before moving forward.

He appears to be completely incapable of completing any task that is not specifically lined out in his job description.

Emotional stability is also a cause for concern. He will randomly break out into crying fits with no visible cause. The only way to calm him down is to have someone hold him tightly a whisper in his ear. This is starting to cause a decrease in productivity for other co-workers.

Other Notes: Nikolas is clearly an asset to this company. At times shows that he will have the ability to lead this company into the future. There is a lot he needs to learn but it will come to him in time with instruction. He certainly has the base skills required to continue with the position he is currently in with many opportunities for advancement. Also, he is ridiculously cute. Am I allowed to say that?

So I guess he’s a keeper…

I shall name it Mini-Update…

You get nothing, you lose! Good day, sir!

Welcome to a new section of my blog. This my friends, is what I have decided to call a mini-update. They will be smaller than a normal update. Thus the name.

These will hopefully come between large updates. I say hopefully because I am a total slacker and I’d hate to flat out lie to you. These mini-updates (Man, I’m so original.) will sometimes contain little glimpses into my real life. (Not too much though, people on the internet are CRAZY. (Psst, you just called your readers crazy.) They won’t notice. (Now, you’ve called them stupid, all while talking to yourself.) OBLIVIOUS, not stupid. Also, arguing with yourself through text is a completely normal thing.)

Where was I? Oh right, the point of these is like a side quest in a video game. They’re not necessary, but sometimes by reading them you’ll get something special that everyone else doesn’t. This is also known as filler. Now on to the mini-update…

We’re terrible parents. The picture above is a testament to that fact. Let me explain though, because hearing my reasoning is really going to help the situation… or it will make me feel better… or it’s just filler.

He seems to really like being on his changing pad, when we lay him there, whether we change him or not, he gets really excited.He was laying there making noises and grinning at us while we were making fools of ourselves trying to make him make noises and grin. Success.

So, I start giving him a mustache with my index finger. You know what I mean, we all have done the hooked finger mustache to ourselves before… right? RIGHT? Yeah, I thought so.

He’s grinning and making noises and I tell her, with no expectations, I wish we had a fake mustache. She promptly says she can make one. I laugh, again, not expecting anything. Within 2 minutes she has crafted a felt mustache. Awesome.

So, obviously we had to take pictures. The mustache doubled quite well as a uni-brow as well. While the original pictures were great, this one was just screaming to have a top hat and monocle edited in. I mean, seriously, how awesome is a baby in a top hat?

There was also one where he had an eye patch and tricorne with a skull and crossbones on it. That’s one we’ll save for a later date. I made the suggestion that we glue the felt mustache to the pacifier, but that seemed to be too far for her. I’m going to keep pushing for it.

See? This isn’t all that unreasonable. It’s a logical progression. Finger mustache to fake felt mustache to pictures to Photoshop.

So there it was, my first mini-update. The next one will probably be shorter, as the whole idea is to be mini… right? This one was so long because I had explain the concept to all of my readers. (That’s you guys. (You just called them stupid, again.) I so did not. (Right, because it’s so hard to follow what a mini-update would be. Who came up with that terribly unoriginal name anyway?) You’re supposed to be on MY side.) 

Much Apoo About Nothing…

Mayday, Mayday, I'm calling on you I need you here tonight...

I don’t consider myself a great literary mind, I don’t even consider myself a writer; however, there is something amazingly gratifying about making a Shakespearean poop joke. I’m a sick individual, I know. That being said, there will be many, many more scatalogical references in this post. This is a warning to all who may be offended. I apologize up front, but this story needs to be told… or something.

Now that you’re aware of the contents of this post, reading further is like signing a binding contract that you won’t be offended. It is now illegal for you to be offended by my toilet humor. That’s how the law works. 

We were informed by our pediatrician that many babies that nurse have a tendency to stop going number 2 around 2 months old. Well, not stop all together but a lot less often. Several days in between taking care of business is not uncommon. This is the case with our guy. Ok, now that we’ve covered that part…

The little guy has discovered that he can sit up. Ok, not like a normal person yet, but he holds his head up pretty well. Unfortunately, left on his own he topples over rolls off things. Enter the Bumbo, it’s an amazing device that allows parents to sit their children up and walk away with little fear of them crashing and burning onto the floor. Did I mention it was amazing? Ok, so they advise that you don’t leave your child unattended, but seriously… we all know what this thing is made for.

So, there he is trying out his new Bumbo, things are going great. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter in the Bumbo, yeah, yeah, I know, we’re terrible parents. So, there he is happy as can be and then suddenly he’s angry. He’d just eaten, he’d just been changed he was wet, he’d had a conversation with a man about a horse the day before, and he’d just woken up from a nap, that pretty much covers all his worries.

We decide that he has wet himself again, as he a is a pee factory, this has not slowed down at all. I pick him up from the Bumbo, as I am taking him to the other room I see it. It’s a blow out. It’s nasty. I start removing his Onesie, I realize that I cannot do this alone. Mount Poosuvius has erupted and I’m about to be the victim of chocolate lava.

MAYDAY! MAYDAY! Assistance required! The browns have been released!

The Mississippi Mud Pie is all up his back. She informs me that the best option to remove the Onesie and prevent the spread of homemade peanut butter is to roll it upwards. This will put layers of Onesie between his head and the dookie. Brilliant!

At least it would have been, had I not been the one performing the task. I decide to roll it tight like a sleeping bag or a tube of toothpaste. So I get to his head and the liquid Hershey’s Kiss oozes out the side. I now have his hot fudge on my hands, which subsequently ends up on his cheek and neck. I realize this is all very gross, but YOU signed the contract. I don’t make the law, I just abide by it.

The Onesie is finally off and I am instructed to ignore the Montezuma’s Revenge on my hands and his cheeks. It is now time to tackle the diaper. There is no good place to start, the gastric gravy is everywhere. As I am already coated in the septic sludge I reach down and undo the diaper. I’m actually surprised at the amount of slurry remaining in the diaper. It just doesn’t seem possible. We’ve reached the excrement epicenter, we start the cleaning process.

I am fairly certain we used more wipes on this one mess than we have used since he was born. We finally take care of the diaper and I able to clean the super colon blow off of my hands and his face. I am comforted that we are all clean now. There is one thing I have taken away from this. 

This was the Poopocalypse, anything from this point on will be a breeze.

Every morning when I wake up…

If you believe me, you know it memes you have to disbelieve yourself...

So here we go, I have to make good on my promise for a funny post. I certainly hope I can deliver.

It has been decided that my child has some relation to a great magician. We don’t really know which one yet, we’re still doing the research. Oh, I bet now you want the story about why we think he’s related to a magician? Typical.

I’ve mentioned before that he loves his SwaddleMe (PLUG! PLUG! PLUG!). Also, as mentioned before, this thing is virtually a baby straight jacket, it’s designed to keep your baby locked up and immobile so that you can continue doing the things you want to do and they can’t get away. I don’t think I’m going to get free gear for descriptions like that. If you’re from the Summer Infant company, please disregard that last run-on sentence. I’d tell you to disregard all the run-on sentences but then you wouldn’t really be reading my blog would you?

Right, we strap him into the baby straight jacket every night. Strong and secure. These are hardcore Velcro pieces that we have difficulty getting apart sometimes. So, seriously, it’s not something you would expect little ones to break out of. Well, our little guy manages to get out EVERY night. Ok, not all the way out. One arm.

That’s right he wiggles and squirms all night just to get that arm out. He doesn’t wake up, he just keeps that arm moving until he can break it out. Even better, some nights we double swaddle him. SwaddleMe and a blanket, sure enough, without fail, that arm is sticking out in the morning.

Every morning as we go in to check on him there’s that arm straight up over his head. Being a nerd and also having referenced it before, it makes me think of the ___ ALL the ___ meme.

Which leads me to my other conclusion our baby is a living meme. Now, I realize that I am a meme follower and this may make me see things because I am already aware of them.

It’s like mirage, yanno, you’re in the desert and you’re dying of thirst, you’re absolutely sure that there must be water ahead, so you see an oasis. Wait, no, that’s a terrible example.

It’s like when you buy a car, you’ve NEVER seen anyone else driving that car before, you feel special, unique, ORIGINAL. Then suddenly you see them everywhere, you realize you’re just one of millions of people driving the same generic car around. Being aware of your new, unoriginal, unspecial, ununique, car doesn’t mean people didn’t have them before, it just means you didn’t see notice that they did. Unfortunately, it does crush your spirit. Oh hey, look at my sweet word making skills.

Ah yes, my baby is a living meme. It doesn’t end there, he gets wild hair in the morning, probably due to all the fidgeting throughout the night as he David Copperfields his arm out of the Velcro prison. It’s amazingly wild, then he gets this look and puts his hands out just like the crazy Ancient Aliens guy. Now, sure he would look like that guy with just the crazy hair, but with the hands too? It’s uncanny! UNCANNY, I tell you!

Finally, he gets the serious business face. All kids do it, but when you try to get him to smile or anything else, he just stays there with that serious look on his face. I realize that comparing my child to a cat meme is kind of pathetic, but I can’t help it. I keep wondering what will be next, maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll start making the Joseph Decreux pose. It’s ok if you don’t get that last one.