Samuel had an opening in his schedule to help feed Abigail.
He was obliged for the hand-eye coordination training, and Abigail was appreciative for the nutrients.
As you can see by this photo My (Andy) children have none of my genes for anything external.
The question is: How do you get petroleum jelly out of the carpet?
We are indebted to the curiosity of Samuel for this rather effective home remedy.
As I walked in the door I looked across the table into the living room to see my wife and son sitting on their knees facing eachother. The closer I walked to them the picture came into focus. Samuel was, bubbly as ever, casting a big smile to me as he said "Hi Daddy!" I replied with a hello and noticed the glistening shine on Samuels hands, and on his shirt, and his pants. It was at this point that I recognized what it was that was separating the mother and son. There on the floor was a medium pizza size blob of petroleum jelly, at which Samuel was pointing and saying "Funny!!"
It was impossible to keep straight faced while I explained how not funny it was.
Peace, AJV
Abigail had a check-up with the doc this morning.
For those of you who like the stats:
Wt. 10#8oz.
Ht. 23 inches
50th percentile for weight
75th percentile for height
40 yd dash time- No Data.
She also sustained 3 shots to the legs this morning, and is building antibodies as we speak (that is as I write and you read). She is growing, eating and living the good life.
Peace, AJV.
Hey, did I tell you the one...
about these tall people I live with?
They seem to get a kick out of the face I make when I let one go... like this!
In the words of W. T. Pooh, ta-ta for now.
Love, AEV.
Foreshadowing: Sarah and I have been reading chapter books to Samuel. Trying to aim a little above his head in terms of comprehension and word usage (or so we thought).
Last night I was at school until 9pm. When I got home Sarah told me this story:
"Samuel and I were playing trucks in the living room, having a good ole time.
When out of no where Samuel asks 'Where's Tom?'. Huh, I said. 'Where's Tom?' Samuel repeated as he looked all over the room. For the next minute he repeated
the mysterious question while inquisitively scanning beneath the couch, on the bookshelf,
and on top of the table. Again Samuel asks 'Where's Tom?'. Finally I said 'Tom
who, Samuel?' With near perfect clarity the response and identity of the mystery
Tom came: 'Sawyer'!
Sarah laughed so much that it caused Samuel to laugh at her laughing at him. For it has been a couple weeks gone by since we had returned The Adventures of Tom Sawyer to the library.
Immediately we both made a mental list of what has now become dangerous to repeat around that boy.
Peace, Andy
