Okay, so Nate’s eye (see below) isn’t so funny. This post was originally called both “Sunday, bloody son day”, and “I scream Sunday”. While those titles more accurately captured the gist of Nate’s eye, they didn’t really work with the other two pictures. Not pictured is me rescuing Sam from the mudslide of his diaper, him peeing in a dazzling arc from the changing table to the floor, or the look on Jill’s face as he yacked all over himself, and then down into her cleavage. Good ones, Sam.

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Judging by the amount of powder on Nate’s face and upper torso, I’d say that Liam was the man weilding the baby powder. By the time it settled, there was a heavy to light dusting of powder extending from the bathroom pictured, out into the hallway, down the back staircase, and well into the downstairs hall. Nate looked down after his picture was taken, and powder actually fell from his eyebrow onto the floor. It looked like something that would sift down from the rafters during an earthquake in a mineshaft.

After the cleanup, they ate breakfast, laughed, and then ate powdered donuts, which oddly brought their faces around full circle.

Later, Nate had yet another encounter with the edge of a table. And once again, he emerged scathed and unvictorious.

He heard Liam ask for some ice in his grape juice, and he lost his mind. He excitedly picked up Liam’s cup, and even as Liam began to squeal in protest, Nate was already setting it back down, and his feet were starting to head for the smaller table where his own juice was.

"Eye-iiiiiiiiccccccceeeeee!" he yelled as he pelted feet into the kitchen, tripped, and went forehead first into the table. Ironically, he hit just inches away from where his grape juice sat, and it was his head that ended up needing the ice, which never did make it into his cup.

He did, however, get to watch ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ from my lap. He also got the coveted ‘Boo-Boo Buddy’ from the fridge, although he insisted on holding it directly between his eyes as he leaned against my chest and forlornly watched Thomas from beneath his swelling goose egg.

Here are the after-effects of dinner, unevenly distributed across the Outer Sam. Although it looks like he was eating a pumpkin, I believe this was either apricots, a Baby Mum-Mum biscuit, or both (Jill was feeding him, and I could hear her laughing from the next room).

To me, he looks like the Heat Miser, or someone who just smoked an exploding cartoon cigar. This made necessary a bath, which he promptly ruined shortly after exiting it with the aforementioned yacking.

All in all, a fairly typical Sunday.

Over the years, my hounds suffered a number of Photoshopped indignities.

“Okay. We’re going to need you to put on this white, official-looking labcoat. Then, look into the camera and act as though you’re holding a Shell gas card. And since we perplexingly don’t have an actual card for you to hold, simply spread your finger and thumb really far apart, and we’ll just Photoshop it in later. No one will be able to tell, because it will look so realistic and seamless. No, further than that. Further. There you go! Keep them just like that!”

“Also, we’re going to need to make up a fake-sounding name for you, which will in turn be Photoshopped onto the fake card. And even though it will probably be too small to be picked up by say… a camera-phone, people will notice it at the pump, and we need that kind of personal touch for our advertisement. Something that says ‘This is my name… and it’s here on this card’. How about…  ’Chris Morgan’? I like that. And lastly, Chris… may I call you Chris? Lastly, we’re going to make one of your eyebrows twice as bushy as the other.”

“Cheese!” 

Daddy, Liam, and Nate take a late afternoon trip to the park. This was the sixth of six in as many days, and the only one for which I took the camera. If you’re interested in further details of the chase scenes, table talk, or the goosedown-beshitting of wandering hands, click a pic. (Note: Since first posting this, I’ve moved all the descriptions from Flickr into the content of this post. Better that way - fewer clicks; more info).

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The boys wait for Da-da to quit taking pictures and take them to the park.

(This composite was created from about 30 individual shots - variously rotated, placed, adjusted, and manually ’stitched’ using Photoshop CS2)

We hadn’t even yet made it to the picnic table before Nate was chasing geese. Note his shopping bag filled with food.

I believe he was relaying important factoids regarding the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was eating. Or he could’ve simply been asking me something that began or ended with “Da-da”.

Yeah, probably that.

Although it might look like it, this is not a posed shot. Anyone who knows Nate and Liam knows that with them, there is no such thing. Liam was circling the tree, and I happened to get lucky when he stopped to lean.

Nate is very busy in the background with his dinner - Go-Gurt, I believe.

Liam chills on the table. Immediately after this picture was taken, he realized that I was behind him, and, undoubtedly sensing my desire to further capture this extended, pensive, and candid moment, proceeded to jump from the table and exit the frame.

As we were leaving, Nate happened upon a pile of fresh gooseshit, most of which he immediately picked up. I’d forgotten any kind of antibacterial wipe, so the next best thing was the faucet beneath the water fountain. Bunctiousness ensued.

Later, Da-da, Liam and Nate took a late-evening trip back home.

Our backyard wedding, four years ago today. Happy anniversary, Buhbee!

“Nate, do you remember playing with Play-Doh when we were little?” Liam asked, “And I’d keep all my colors neat and separated, and you’d just mash yours into one giant mauve ball?”

From his bodycast, Nate blinks once for yes.

If you squint when you look at this picture of Nate in his highchair, I swear you can see the face of a horse, eyes rolling, thunderstruck and charging madly, enraged that there’s a sparking monkey tangled in his mane and vomiting electricity.

No? Then surely you can see the face of a cow, eyes half-lidded, nonchalant and chewing mildly, slightly annoyed that there’s an albino bullfrog sitting between her horns and smoking a glowstick?

Either way, the effect is enhanced if you shake your head violently back and forth while letting your lips go all wug-wug-wug-wug, so fast that everything’s blurry, all the while experiencing a series of disjointed psychedelic mindtrips, only to discover later that not only do you not work at the post office, but that you never even left Vietnam.