Boys' Toys

Wes insisted that we spend almost half an hour studying the truck.

I had a sociology professor at UCLA who peppered her lectures with snarky asides about how men and women were virtually the same, except for a few trivial anatomical differences. She explained that society conditions little girls to like dolls and little boys to like trucks and that a gender-neutral Utopia was likely just a few decades away...

And while we're waiting for this alleged "Utopia" (?!), here's a bit of bumper sticker wisdom from someone who probably did not spend eight years getting an advanced degree in sociology:

Chips Ahoy!

Although sunscreen and a hat protected Wes from harmful UV rays, he decided to just take his chances with his sodium and saturated fat intake.

Another pic from our Easter in the desert, with Wes-Chop chomping chips. He wasn't all that fascinated with this year's Masters telecast ("Zach Johnson... Is he someone's caddy?"), but the endless parade of salty snacks marching across his path made for its own kind of entertainment.

Southwest Easter Bunny Tale

For whatever reason, Wes doesn't immediately trust hip-hop chicks.

Guess who we met in Palm Desert on Easter Sunday? At first, Wes wasn't quite sure what to make of the long ears, the puffy tail, and the tendency to hop around quite a bit. But after 45 minutes of chasing (and being chased by) the Easter Bunny around the lawn in the backyard, we learned that you can't spell "hysterical laughter" without H-A-R-E (well you can, I suppose, but then it would be "ysticl lugt" and this post would make even less sense).

Oh well. I guess the weekend's excitement made us "basket" cases. (Sorry.)

Of course, if there's a camera pointed our way, we're certainly happy to smile!

Taxidermy Headwear?

Wes models the latest in faux fur fun!

Our Breakfast Rolls/Roles

Yes, we get silly at breakfast time. Yes, sometimes we play with a paper towel roll (cut in half). Yes, there was a song that we were singing to accompany this paper towel roll dance.

No, we will not be singing it for you here. (Sorry, but silly morning songs have a very short shelf life. It'd probably make you sick if you listened to it now.)

Our Swingin' Guy!

Wesley has a new place to hang out! The photo above (and video below) is from his first time riding a swing at our local park, an experience that had him laughing out loud.

And, yes, just like at Starbucks: People come over and talk to him. He lives in a world filled with smiling faces, populated almost entirely with people happy to see him and eager to say hello. And why not, right?

Low-res video, anyone?

Shop with Chop & Pop

Apologies to Wesley's fans who have been clamoring for more frequent blog updates. Management and labor have reached an agreement that should (?) prevent future work stoppages.

In addition to the stoppin', we've been shoppin', among other things. While Mom was trying stuff on in the Puma store's dressing room, we were fairly patient. For the first 73 minutes.

5:17 p.m. - "Daddy's wearing a hilarious hat and taking a picture of me!"

5:41 p.m. - "Yeah, I saw the hat, Dad. It was mildly entertaining the first 11 times you showed it to me."

We needed more than just the usual amusement: mirrors would be needed.

Mirrors would be found:

5:58 p.m. - "Okay, this is kinda fun."

6:03 p.m. - "Dad, did you see this kid in the mirror?!"

6:05 p.m. - "Okay, now you're just scaring me, Dad. Let's go find Mom and get outta here!"

Kangaroo Invasion

Wesley dusts the floor with his Halloween costume.

Wes is Kangaroo'd

Shanon and Wes strike a Happy Halloween pose prior to trick-or-treating. We decided not to overdue it and stopped after about, oh... one house.

(Note: Stop with the emails. We know male marsupials don't have pouches -- they also don't have Pampers. It was a Halloween costume. It was pretend. I hope you didn't tell the little girl dressed as Nemo that a "real" fish who went trick-or-treating would die.)

Messley Hartford

You know how when you're dining with someone and they get a little piece of food hanging off their chin or maybe their lip, and you sort of dab at your own chin with a napkin, as a hint to them that, you know, "Hey, ya got a little somethin' right there..." and then they pick up on the hint and quickly wipe away the crumb or whatever?

I don't even know where to start with Wes.

"No, it's still there. A little lower."

Wesley Looks Up to Us

...or maybe he just looks up at us?

The cats aren't thrilled about Wesley's newfound mobility -- nor are they amused by his attempts to "pet" them (i.e. when he grabs a drool-drenched fistful of fur and squeals with laughter).

We humans, on the other hand, can't help but smile when this little face looks up and invites us to play.

Even if it's a game involving loud "singing" and clattering blocks on the hardwood floors at 5:42 a.m.

Right, Shanon?

Wesley in action!

World premiere footage of Wesley crawling:


More to come!

Wesley will be in "X-Men 4"

So it turns out Wesley has telekinetic powers (which is why we haven't posted in a few weeks; we've needed to get a handle on this newly discovered "gift").

Shanon and I had been grumbling about this hideous beast of a car that's always parked at the end of our block. It's a red Bronco that's been made into a convertible with a chainsaw (I wish I were making this up). The fact that it's been further customized with a lift-kit and super-small wheels makes it even more attractive.

We kept joking that maybe one of our neighborhood's giant trees would fall on it or something. And then, early one morning...

Wes smiled up at me after he did it, looking for approval -- and I couldn't help myself. Gave the little guy a quick high-five as we bolted from the scene.

Chop!

"My nickname? What, do I have to spell it out for you?"

Wesley has foam-padded, interlocking letters that provide a cushiony play area. Since the alphabet's arrival, the hardwood floors have inflicted far fewer bumps to our Chop's head.

Toy Design 101

This "giant ball with spikes" wasn't such a big seller when it was made out of jagged steel. But in soft, squishy latex? Home run.

The Kid's Got No Poker Face

Smiles are common with Wes, but not constant. He's getting to the point where it's very obvious when he's happy -- and when he's not.

He's got no poker face when we play Texas Hold 'Em. You know when he has a full house or a straight flush. (Really, anything more than a pair of 10's gets him drooling.)

The photo below? It's his 2 - 7 (off suit) face. Go all in.

"Muchas Grass-he-has, Senor!"

Before the giant liquidambar tree in the front yard blankets our lawn in reds, oranges and browns...

Before the after-dinner daylight dwindles from feature-length entertainment down to 30-second spots...

Wesley and I are trying to savor most evenings outside. And I've been pretty good at keeping him from eating the leaves.

Until last night.

Interesting note: The leaf retraced its steps back up and out of Wesley in pretty good shape. Wesley laughed about the whole thing. Shanon? Not so much laughter.

"Cleanup in the produce department!"

Wes keeps track of our shopping list so I only have to go back to Whole Foods twice.

That whole "cleanup" thing?

Totally not our fault.

I think if our market tries to nudge peckish customers into impulse purchases by assembling pretentious displays of grapes and cheeses in the produce department, they might as well put up a sign that says, "Please splatter our floors with debris" (or "da brie," or in last Saturday's case, ubriaco cheese and Tudor premium red grapes).

Regardless, it's nice to see someone else's floor splotched with food. Sometimes after Wesley eats his fruits and vegetables -- which look exactly like the items pictured above (if you put them in a Cuisinart for an hour) -- we get a similar effect.

Harley David Son

This picture doesn't do it justice. Wesley is actually hunched forward in his swing, white-knuckling it, looking very much like he's riding his Ducati 999 hard through Topanga Canyon, banking into each turn.

But there's a stringent helmet law in California, so for now he's just drooling and having a good time. In the living room.

Not Trying to Read Too Much Into This, But...

Wesley loves books, loves holding them, loves turning their pages (and, yes, loves drooling on them -- what's your point?). I wonder if someday he'll show his children this photo and they'll all laugh about how old-fashioned, you know, actual "books" are.

Incidentally, the book Wesley is perusing here is called "Pajama Time," and follows a group of very upbeat and enthusiastic animals getting ready for bed.

Elephants, rhinos, cats, dogs, pigs and bunnies all putting on their sleepwear, singing and dancing, describing their pajamas: "...Some are fuzzy. Some are not. But we can all pajammy in whatever we got."

Um. "Pajammy"?

Shanon and I played Scrabble last night and -- trust me -- Wesley's already going to have enough trouble differentiating between real words and Shanon's ridiculous made-up words not-so-real words because both parents are, uh, let's call it "creative" on this front. Examples from last night include: ot, lume, polleny, quainger. (Full disclosure: the latter two were mine.)

I don't think we need to be confusing Wes with things like "pajammy" -- although if we were all playing Scrabble together we'd probably give it to him (assuming he wasn't winning -- we're pretty cutthroat with those little lettered tiles).