Sure, we had hopes of him becoming a doctor or a world famous inventor or even a super famous soccer player, but when Mysterio lays down a prediction, you can’t really argue.

(Thanks, Uncle Nishitoba.)

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2 shots left. Then that’s it ’till 2010.

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Samson’s almost 6 weeks old, and because of a combination of reflux/colic, me not paying enough attention to what I’ve been eating, a growth spurt, and just plain learning what he likes and wanting only that, we’ve been hearing quite a bit of the fussiness/crankiness/BLOODCURDLING SCREAMS this past week. Samson doesn’t immediately *look* like our offspring, but we’ve found something we have in common. He enjoys channeling David Brent as much as we do. Though even in that, we can’t seem to agree on which part of the episode to draw from.

We’re all: Some complaints will be false.

Him: I think you’ll care when I tell you what the complaint is……

Us: There is no room 362, Samson.

Him: I THINK THERE’S BEEN A RAPE UP THERE!

Mr. Pants is now 5 weeks, 11lbs 2oz, and strong like bull.

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I bought a bumbleberry pie at Whittamore’s Farm Market today, and asked Hubby to buy some vanilla ice cream on the way home from work. Later, as I’m carrying it up from our freezer downstairs, I notice it doesn’t have plastic wrap around the edge of the lid as I would expect, but as this is a funny story we’ve already experienced*, I figure it must just have plastic lining the ice cream under the lid. I lift the lid.

Who does that?! An obvious fork mark!

I’ll let you guess whether we had pie à la mode or not.

* A longer story that I don’t think I can do justice. Involves my brother-in-law and his girlfriend (I can call her my sister-in-law, right? I normally do.) and a tub of ice cream that had obviously been snacked on, presumably in the store, because it had time to go all freezer-burned, but brother-in-law was convinced she had made a snack but didn’t remember doing so. After he went to exchange it at the store, he mysteriously found plastic in the garbage that she didn’t remember removing from the ice cream.

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I bought a bumbleberry pie at Whittamore’s Farm Market today, and asked Hubby to buy some vanilla ice cream on the way home from work. Later, as I’m carrying it up from our freezer downstairs, I notice it doesn’t have plastic wrap around the edge of the lid as I would expect, but as this is a funny story we’ve already experienced*, I figure it must just have plastic lining the ice cream under the lid. I lift the lid.

Who does that?! An obvious fork mark!

I’ll let you guess whether we had pie à la mode or not.

* A longer story that I don’t think I can do justice. Involves my brother-in-law and his girlfriend (I can call her my sister-in-law, right? I normally do.) and a tub of ice cream that had obviously been snacked on, presumably in the store, because it had time to go all freezer-burned, but brother-in-law was convinced she had made a snack but didn’t remember doing so. After he went to exchange it at the store, he mysteriously found plastic in the garbage that she didn’t remember removing from the ice cream.

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Spurred by a comparison of crappy pictures on my Blackberry where Samson just doesn’t look like himself anymore, I took my real camera on our regular trip to Cherry Beach today. It’s astonishing how much he’s grown in these (almost) 4 weeks. And on stuff my body makes! Cheap and convenient! Which, I have to say, really should be the number one reason why anyone perserveres through any troubles with breastfeeding. Today Samson threw a (tiny) hissy-fit when we were about 3 minutes from the car, so I just sat on a bench near the water and fed him. Less than ten minutes later, we were on our way again. No running to the car for a bottle, no warming of a bottle, no carrying an empty bottle, no having to wash a bottle when we get home.

Addie warning us of the perils of boats with sails.

Please, no gang signs. No, throw it up. I’m kidding.

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Spurred by a comparison of crappy pictures on my Blackberry where Samson just doesn’t look like himself anymore, I took my real camera on our regular trip to Cherry Beach today. It’s astonishing how much he’s grown in these (almost) 4 weeks. And on stuff my body makes! Cheap and convenient! Which, I have to say, really should be the number one reason why anyone perserveres through any troubles with breastfeeding. Today Samson threw a (tiny) hissy-fit when we were about 3 minutes from the car, so I just sat on a bench near the water and fed him. Less than ten minutes later, we were on our way again. No running to the car for a bottle, no warming of a bottle, no carrying an empty bottle, no having to wash a bottle when we get home.

Addie warning us of the perils of boats with sails.

Please, no gang signs. No, throw it up. I’m kidding.

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My son’s a trooper.

(All photos courtesty of Auntie Calla.)

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Last week, Samson’s Auntie Calla and I put him through a crash course in baby modelling, and he was nothing short of a trooper.

1 vintage scale

1 Le Creuset dutch oven

1 picnic basket

2 yards of gingham

6 alphabet blocks

1 serving platter

1 pack Polaroid Spectra film, saved from 2007, specifically for baby

2 poops

1 pee

1 change of clothes for mommy

3+ changes of clothes for Samson

3 blankets

1 handknit scarf

1 quick laundry cycle

1 mantle

5 balls of yarn

1 bamboo tray

…make for an amazing set of photos, that we’re quite sure, being a guy, Samson won’t really appreciate, but his wife is going to LOVE.

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