Aeli's First Day of School!

Aeli had his first day at school today. Apparently he "talked at the lions for about twenty minutes." Loquacious little one.

Also, they tell us he's the biggest- no, let's say- "healthiest" baby they've had come through yet.

Breaking records already.

His little-persons' school sends home a daily report as well. His first report card! All passing marks. Happy circled three times over, a nap, and three bottles. It also informs us that they read the book "Baby Animals," and sung the timeless classic, "Patty Cake."

Now he is napping. That's also my favorite thing to do after school. I'd better go get on it.

Laundry: It's Not a Chore; It's A Way of Life

Always. It's always happening.

Miss Sadie lives across the street. She's 88 and has lived in her house for 50 years. She comes over every few days (more often if she sees us outside) and loves on Aeli. She calls him "my lil man," and "lil booger." We call her the queen of our street.

Presently Aeli is singing and cooing all over the place. I have to go cuddle him right now.

Overalls

He is turning into a KID right before my eyes!

Aeli Reviews Daft Punk

Not so sure about this, Mom.

The Calm and The Storm in Washington D.C.

This was Aeli at about 12:30 pm on Saturday night, as we were all about to go to bed:

Then- not sixty-seconds after I stopped recording, he projectile vomits EVERYWHERE. Exorcist style. Fountains of liquid white shooting from his little mouth, soaking my shirt and pants, creating a huge puddle of spit-up in the middle of Ariel's bed. I just sat there for a second, dripping. Stefin's all, "Oh my god! What was that?!"

Aeli just smiles. He's not upset one bit.

We use at least four regular-person-sized towels to sop up the mess. Change the sheets, change Aeli and his outfit, wet-washcloth-off his spit-up-soaked head, change my outfit, literally all of it, including my underwear, which was also soaked on one side. Sitting in a pool of puke will do that, I suppose.

Aeli goes peacefully to sleep as soon as he's in dry clothes, and Stefin and I tip-toe around, making laundry piles and towel piles and finding more towels to use as barricades beneath us because the spit-up has soaked all the way down to the mattress and seeps up when you lay on it.

Happy as a clam, though, that boy.