These are just a mish-mash of photos I took the last couple days. I take pictures like its my job. You know those books where you flip the pages really fast and the picture becomes animated? We could put together all the pictures I have of Beau and do the same thing. I document EVERYTHING.
Me too Beau, Me too.
Love that footsie. Sweaty it may be.
Me and Beau going on a walk. Well, I walk... he mostly just chews the side of the Baby Bjorn.
This is the trophy Leo won in his power-lifting competition. I don't know if you can read the plaque but it does say first place. I asked him how long he had to stand still posing while they chiseled (I have no idea how to spell that) this statue of him. On a different note...
Well, today was B's funeral. Thank you everyone for the thoughts and those of you came. She was a special lady and nothing proved that more than today. The service was very nice... or what I got to see of it was. (warning: the following has very descriptive talk of doodie, those with weak gag-reflexes or get their panties in a wad with poo talk should just go ahead and skip down to the next post.) There we were...the third row of the church. Leo and I always strategically place ourselves on the ends of the pew as I'm sure many parents with young kids do. We call it our evacuation plan if things start heading downhill...and today...it did.
I was holding Beau in my lap when Mt. St. Poo-vious erupted. I heard a gurgle, gave the "ooo I'm glad your gonna have to get this one" look to Leo with a smug look on my face...and then looked down. Now, I'm not a baker but I would guesstimate there to be about a half a cup of doodie in my lap. On my pants, or rather seeping through my pants, becoming one with the fabric in a huge wet mess. Beau's in pretty bad shape himself. That cute little sweater vest? Poo. The little man shirt I loved? Poo. His khaki pants you ask? Poo. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of experiencing baby dookie or those who might have forgotten...think really runny guacamole. Shit. Literally. Everywhere. Not a peep from Beau. Wide eyes and smiles. I hand him to Leo who carries him out like a waiter brings the beverage tray and I proceed to use my one little balled up tissue to push the doodie around my lap. The poor lady next to me forfeited her little tissue pack to help the cause, bless her. I finally get cleaned up enough to stand up without it dripping a trail on the church floor and go help Leo with damage control. Thank God you wear black to funerals and not white. And that my friends is how my son has ruined 2 church outfits in 3 days and how I got to say goodbye to my grandmother. At least I know she was heaven with her Bloody Mary cracking up. Love you B.
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